


Paranoid & Aroused

by wonhyuk



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fighting Kink, If you were looking for heterosexual smut please look elsewhere, M/M, Other, Stockholm Syndrome, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7615672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonhyuk/pseuds/wonhyuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maven Krendor spent her whole life not knowing who she was or what she was going to become. Trained as a bounty hunter as well as in the Force, fighting for survival was all she ever knew. On her first mission to exterminate a rogue Sith, she stumbled upon more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Girl

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work is based off a song from Korn's album, "The Paradigm Shift." 
> 
> This story does not stick to the basic male/female pairing. In all honesty, I don't even know what pairings it is going to follow by the end of it.
> 
> It is NOT finished, but chapters will be added depending upon the response to it.
> 
> ***Explicit sexual content in later chapters***
> 
> A lot of research and backstory has gone into creating this, but not everything will be entirely correct in regards to Canon/Legends timelines, the ages of characters, and small details.

Maven wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d seen the sun. Kept locked in an interrogation chamber, with binders holding her arms behind her back, she couldn’t do much to escape. She had tried numerous times, plotting and planning when her captors had been far away so they couldn’t sense her schemes. Though they discovered quite early on that she was a Force sensitive, her abilities hadn’t been able to aid her in escaping. It took a significant amount of effort to resist her captors questioning, especially when they were torturing her. She wasn’t sure why they were still keeping her alive, but she fed the frustration with her anger that grew hotter each day, keeping it low and hidden like a simmering fire that was quietly burning within her.

She sat on the floor in the far corner of the room, far away from the torture rack that she had been strapped down to previously. They chose not to use any of the numerous torture devices during their questioning, and preferred to use the chair simply to restrain her. She discovered that her torturers preferred mind probing over the typical syringe or bone-breaking mechanism. No matter how many times they attempted to force their way inside her mind or beat it out of her, leaving her bloodied and swollen, she ended their sessions with a small smirk on her face. It was then that they realized that they’d have to starve it out of her, and left her to rot in the cell for days on end. Had she not been so broken already, she might have easily been able to remove her restraints and escape, but her mind was slowly becoming an empty shell of only pain and hunger.

To pass the time and the agonizing silence she concentrated on the training she had received before she wound up as a prisoner. She had learned to strengthen her abilities by another Force user who had found her as a child on Byss, scavenging for food in the dark alleys of a city. He called himself Vanek, and though he wasn’t necessarily a master of his power, he knew the Dark Side and had been relying on it for many years before she had know him.  
Vanek had two other pupils he had been training—Dren, a human female and Valenar, a male Togruta. Though none of them considered themselves as true Sith, as the culture was eliminated after the eradication of the Jedi during the Clone Wars, they drew their power from the Dark rather than the Light.  
Valenar was his oldest student, who was ruthless in his fighting. As brutish as he was, Dren was worse than all of them; her temper flaring out like an exploding sun. Maven had discovered early on not to get on her bad side.  
Maven had been in their company for well over a decade, now 24 years old and capable enough to go on her own “missions.” Valenar and Dren, both older than she, left frequently and would often return with an enormous sum of credits from their excursions. Using their learned skills and Force sensitivity, Vanek’s students became trained bounty hunters who also used the Force.

Maven had been on her first mission outside of Altair 9, the planet that they were currently residing on, but it had not gone well. Vanek had informed her that this would require the use of all the knowledge she had learned over the years, as well as refined skill. She was the fastest out of all of them, using her small stature to gain an advantage over her enemies. In combat training she fought hard to win against Dren, who had many years of outside experience than she did. What she lacked in long leg strides she made up for in acrobatics, constantly jumping and twirling through the air to parry Dren’s blows or blaster bolts.  
Valenar was much more difficult to defeat, as he was much stronger than either of them. Being a Togruta, he had his carnivorous instinct on his side, and was like a rabid animal in a fight. His lekku also aided him in sensing his surroundings, and he would parry Maven’s saber or blaster bolts before she could even reach him. To outdo her older and wiser teammate, she spent countless hours training and customized her lightsaber so that its hilt was much longer than average, but not as long as a saberstaff. It could also detach into two pieces, creating two lightsabers; one of regular size and the other a shoto. This gave her much more of an advantage when in combat, and her new refined saber played well against Valenar’s own.  
In their last skirmish, Maven managed to land a strike to the Togruta’s shoulder. In response, her combatant hunched over and she quickly whirled around him as he clutched his arm in pain. In that brief second she jumped over him and quickly slashed his back. Valenar screamed and fell onto his knees, and as Maven pulled out her DL-18 heavy blaster pistol to end her partner’s misery, Vanek quickly stopped her before it had gone too far. 

She was ready for her first mission.

Maven chucked at the memory, sighing from the idiocy of it all. She knew that she was more than capable of handling herself on her own, yet the mission had gone sideways. She had been sent to locate and kill one Zabrak male who was becoming a nuisance for the underground smuggling community. Typically, they would spend days researching their buyer’s target in order to best discover their weaknesses, but this time was different. 

Maven had approached Vanek after she had received her mission’s directives. She held the holochip in front of her, waving it at Vanek like it was a joke.

“You’ve barely given me any background information on this guy!” she exclaimed. “How am I supposed to go after a ghost?”

“You have information, Maven,” he attested. “As it says in the file, he is a Dathomirian who hails from the Nightbrother clan. He is also a strong Force user. That should be enough for you to get the job done.”

“Get the job done?” she was annoyed. “And what kind of Force sensitive is he? Is he like us? What is his name?”

Vanek sighed and pulled his hood up over his head. “I have to go as I have my own tasks to complete. Use your training, Maven. If these directives aren’t enough to get the job done, then maybe you aren’t strong enough yet. If you aren’t here by the time I return, I’ll take it as a sign that you are dead. If you do return, best be with his head in a sack, or I will run you through.” 

After his last unforgiving word he turned and left, his hooded cape trailing behind him. Maven scrunched her nose in distaste and then sighed, throwing the holochip on the ground before leaving to prepare.

As she readied to leave, attaching her saber to her belt and making sure that both blaster pistols were secured in their holsters, Vanek’s words echoed in her mind. To her it made no sense that she was being sent on a suicide mission, especially if her target was a Force user. At first she believed that if anyone was going after this guy, Vanek should be the one to do it. He was the most skilled out of all of them, and after seeing the amount of credits the Hutts were going to pay them to go through with it, it made the most sense. 

Letting out an agitated sigh she boarded her ship, a modified Star Courier that was previously owned by Vanek, and prepared for launch. No matter who this target was or what he was capable of, she was going to destroy him all the same.

When Maven finally arrived to eliminate her target there had not been one Dathomirian but two of them. Vanek had lied to her.

Her first mistake was not waiting longer before attacking. She should have taken her time to watch him from afar and learn his patterns. She was a bit too headstrong in that regard, especially after becoming highly frustrated after Vanek’s lack of discourse, and instead of taking up a sniping position she decided to face her enemy head-on. Had she completed the mission from a distance, she might not have had to deal with the second Zabrak that showed up.

She had snuck into her target’s residence in the Mataou System, which was nothing more than an old mining facility. It must have been abandoned for years, and was covered in dust and dirt and broken machinery. Her second mistake was not taking her time to study her surroundings and learn the layout of the facility. Had she known it down to the most miniscule detail, she might have been able to outwit them both, if not escape.

She didn’t realize her third mistake until she had ignited her lightsaber, lunging at her target from behind and meeting his own. He smirked as their red sabers clashed, and she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she heard another lightsaber ignite from behind her.

A second Dathomirian Zabrak came running at her from behind, growling like a wild rancor. Without thinking and on pure instinct, she leapt up high into the air and managed to land somewhat away from the both of them.

For a short second she hesitated, clutching her lightsaber in front of her in a defensive position as if it were a lifeline. She studied them; one was tall and broader than the other but they both carried themselves as extremely skilled Force users. The shorter one, her original target, must have caught onto her staring because he grinned before coming at her. His red face looked menacing against the crimson glow of his lightsaber and he bared pointed teeth as he lunged.

As she caught his saber with her own, the more brutish male came at her from the other side. He wielded a saberstaff, like Vanek. Although she often dueled against him and his saberstaff, the yellow Zabrak was more animalistic in his movements. It was becoming more and more difficult to fight one Dathomirian and parry the other without losing her footing or even a limb.  
Focusing on her training, she twisted and twirled and leaped high into the air, coming down with full force, hoping to knock her original target off balance. When she did this the taller male parried her, and the shorter attempted to make the killing blow. Thinking fast, Maven leapt several feet backwards and pulled out one of her blasters, sending multiple shots at both of them. They easily deflected the bolts but didn’t seem to expect her next move. Using her grappling hook, she shot it into the duracrete above her and sent a cascade of blaster bolts down at them as she swung to the other side of the room. 

They chased her and as she felt them using the Force to try to pull her down she sent her own invisible push back at them. She landed on her feet without missing a beat and released the grapple, holstering it at she struggled to hold them back with the Force. With one hand held out in front of her and the other clutching her lightsaber hilt, she ground her teeth as she sent volley after volley of Force blasts at them.

Both Dathomirians had their hands raised in conjunction with her, pushing back at her through the Force. Had she only been facing against one of them she knew that she would have stood a better chance. She began her mission believing that she was going after only one target, yet now there were two and they were both strong in the Force. The shorter, red Zabrak had stealth and speed on his side, and she could sense that he seemed more confident in what he was doing. The taller, yellow one was much larger and more muscular in stature, and he seemed like he would much rather charge at his enemies than take the time to learn strategy or combat technique. Regardless of their abilities or training they were becoming more of a nuisance than she realized and she was having a difficult time holding a Force barrier around herself to keep them from pushing through with their own.  
She was straining now and felt herself being slowly pushed backwards as her footing began to slip. Sweat trickled from her brow and she grunted, pushing back as hard as she could and refusing to be defeated. The first to give way even in the slightest would either be thrown backwards or crushed under the weight of the Force. As she felt her knees begin to buckle, Maven was forced to use both hands in attempt to push back at them and not let herself succumb to their doubled power. It was beginning to become arduous for her to see straight, either due to the enormous amount of pressure that she was exerting or the sweat blinding her golden eyes, but she could distinctly hear one of them grunt in his own effort. 

Suddenly, the shorter Dathomirian let out a menacing wail and pushed hard against the barrier that she had been fighting against, breaking through and sending her flying backwards. She landed on her back and rolled over several times, possibly breaking a rib in the process. When the rolling finally ceased she was on her stomach, her ankle twisted and the breath knocked out from her lungs. As she tried to gasp in air the two of them walked towards her with one of their lightsabers drawn. As the larger one moved to raise his saber the other stopped him, pausing momentarily to study his attacker on the ground. Maven’s vision was blurry and as she struggled to move she was quickly pushed back down in attempt. The last thing she felt before she passed out was the pressure of a boot on her back, and then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depending on the response to this story, I will post one chapter every few days or every week as I haven't finished it yet. Please keep in mind that I am not a perfect human being, and if any Star Wars canon information is wrong, let me know in a mature fashion. I edit everything myself.


	2. The Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting two more chapters because they are short (chapters will get longer as the story continues).
> 
> I may post backstory information before continuing chapters, if needed.
> 
> For this chapter I drew a lot of inspiration from the interrogation scenes in The Force Awakens involving Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron, and Rey. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Maven awakened to two sets of yellow eyes staring down at her. As reality sluggishly came back into view she found herself strapped onto a torture rack with her arms and legs bound in restraints. The chair was set upright and as she stared at her captors she let out a wicked scream, yanking on her restraints in a useless attempt to break free. 

Her target smirked down at her; the red one, she came to call him. The other stood behind him, his skin a deep yellow. Both men were covered in black facial and body tattoos, though she only could assume this from looking at their faces and bare hands. Both were clad in armor; the larger Zabrak adorned in more leather and metal than the shorter. Horns protruded out from their tattooed skulls, the yellow one with longer horns than the other. A hand with sharpened fingernails came to greet her as the red one slapped her, making sure that she was fully awake.

Maven cursed and spat out the blood that was now bleeding from her bottom lip. The larger Dathomirian moved to strike her as well but the other blocked his attempt. 

“Who sent you?” the red one asked, curiosity in his tone.

“That depends,” Maven replied, pausing to glare up at him “…on how much two Zabrak scum are worth over one.”

He hit her then, hard, into her injured ribs. Maven tried to hold in a scream, forcing back tears as she struggled to hone in on the pain. She often welcomed pain, as it was useful to Dark Side users. Vanek had taught her to use her abilities to harness any pain that she felt; turn its destructive and unrelenting nature and mold it into power. But she was beginning to suffer from more than just a broken rib and twisted ankle, as she felt the red one begin to probe inside her mind.

“Who sent you?” he asked again, his clawed hand raised in front of her face.

Maven’s lip twitched as she fought back against his power, raising her own protective wall so that he couldn’t access her mind. He pushed more forcefully then, his jaw tightly clenched as Maven felt a harsh tug on her barrier. It felt as if someone had injected a hot needle into her skull and was slowly trying to drain the juices out from inside her brain.

“Who. Sent. You?” He demanded this time, his hand only centimeters from her furrowed brow. 

She shut her eyes, focusing in on instinct rather than any knowledge she had on resisting extraction techniques, of which she had none. Grunting in pain, she drew out whatever energy she could pull from inside herself and yanked it up and out against her torturer, throwing him off balance. With their connection momentarily broken, Maven swiftly restored the wall inside her mind, panting from the exertion. 

The red Zabrak was panting as well with a look of disbelief on his face. He sneered before pulling the other aside, whispering a command that she could not hear. The larger one nodded and straightened and the other proceeded to leave, his hands clenched into fists as he walked out of the room. 

When the yellow Dathomirian finally left her, Maven was close to blacking out for the second time. Her face was bruised and bloodied, one of her eyes was swollen shut, and it felt like another rib had fractured. The larger Zabrak seemed to enjoy physical torture much more than the other, but he was unable to get Maven to talk. She sensed that he was a Force user just like the other, but he never attempted to probe his way inside her mind. Instead, he took to pure physical torment and often growled when she refused to speak even after his harsh questioning. 

Maven frequently fell in and out of consciousness in between their “sessions” over the course of the next few days. She learned that the red one relied more heavily on the Force while the other would resort to physically punching her in an effort to break her. It grew to the point where every agonizing attempt to interrogate the information out of her became more painful than the next. Her connection to the Force was dwindling, but she fought stubbornly to hold on. The anger she felt towards her captors and her frustration at Vanek’s deceit were the only devices keeping her alive at that point.   
The red one normally asked her the same type of questions as he proceeded to break into her mind: Who sent you? Who do you work for? What are you doing here? He never went further than that and never asked for her name or who she even was. She found it almost offensive, but kept her mouth closed despite her feelings. It was during the fifth day, though she did not know but could only guess, when their session took a different turn.

The red one entered first as he had always done, his hands clasped behind his back as the other followed behind him. After the door sealed shut behind them the first began to pace back and forth, keeping his hands as they were and studying his prisoner.   
Maven resisted opening her mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but the red Zabrak must have sensed it because he smirked. 

“It is becoming more and more difficult to find an excuse not to kill you,” he stated. “My brother has wanted to kill you for days, and now I’m wondering why I shouldn’t let him.”

Maven’s sneered in annoyance but she didn’t reply. So, they were brothers. That made her predicament all the more interesting yet also unsettling. 

The red one sighed, continuing to pace. “We can continue this game until the end of time, but you will die and I will be absent of any information from your failed attempt to kill me.”

He moved over to her, pausing to look her over. “Who are you, _really_?”

Taken aback by the question, she hesitated. She could lie to him; make up a plausible story about who she was and where she came from, and hope that they might let her live. She could tell the truth, but once they knew about Vanek and the others they would not only kill her but them as well. Unsure, she decided to keep her mouth defiantly shut.

“You know that I can just take what I want,” he said, his voice low. “I am older that you, wiser than you, and more powerful than you could imagine.”

“Then why haven’t you broken me?” she retorted, not thinking before the words poured out from between her lips. She glared up at him, only able to see through one good eye yet glared all the same.

He lifted a brow and curiously rubbed his chin, as if deliberating on how to respond. “You’re resilient, I like that, but you won’t last much longer in your current condition.”

“Try me,” she spat.

The red Zabrak’s brother growled and took a step forward, but the other shushed him. Maven was beginning to understand who the real leader was here.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he replied, closing the gap between them. “I have lived through war. I have killed hundreds of enemies and have slaughtered countless Jedi. I have wiped out all those who dared to stand in my way, watching as the life drained from them. Yet you think you can resist me?”

He was close to her now; no lies threaded between his words. His face was long and stern with scars scattered across red and black skin. His yellow eyes were a deep golden glow against the harsh contrast of his flesh tones, but they didn’t avert her gaze. He wore a cowl across his shoulders that also ran up over his neck, with a simple dark tunic over his torso. His armor consisted of a simple set of leather guards that he wore over his forearms, as well as shin guards for his calves and thick, leather boots. Maven did not dare let her gaze linger, but was almost drawn to.

“It’s a good thing I’m no Jedi,” she replied, her voice unwavering. 

He was in her mind then, faster than she could respond. Her head crashed against the back of the torture rack with her face forced upwards in an attempt to take in oxygen. She could feel him squeezing the life out of her as he shifted inside her mind, attempting to dive into memories that were housed deep within. She tried to not make a sound as the pain worsened, choking and balling her hands into fists. He continuously tightened and loosened his grip on her windpipe, trying to get her to let go of those barriers, forcing in his own painful illusions of agony into her. She was pushing back at him with all of the strength she could muster, while also attempting to withstand torturous illusions of pain and death. Though she knew the visions weren’t real, the burning sensation that she felt across her skin felt like she was being licked by flames, and the pressure on her chest felt as if a Rathtar was squeezing her to death.   
She felt herself being forcefully pulled forward, her arms straining as they were still strapped tightly down by the restraints in the chair. Her mouth twitched while she managed to choke back a groan, as sweat slowly dripped down the side of her face. The white-hot needle that was now penetrating the walls inside her skull made her body want to convulse, and if she could scream she would have. 

“I am going to ask you again, _girl_ , and if you answer me I will release you from this pain,” her tortured stated.

With his outstretched hand he took hold of her jaw and forced her to look at him. The touch surprised her; not because it hurt, but because it didn’t. The shooting pain in her mind momentarily dwindled, as did the crushing sensation against her body. The flames she felt licking her flesh lessened their heat, but she still felt them there. 

“Who are you?” he asked. It wasn’t a demand.

Maven was panting from the torture she had endured, but managed to take a slow breath to calm herself. Meeting his gaze she stammered, “I am your death.”


	3. The Red One

It was then that they left her to starve.

The red one had yelled after their last encounter and Force-punched a hole into the durasteel wall, leaving a crater behind. Why he still hadn’t killed her, she didn’t know, as she had accepted her fate days prior.  
The larger Zabrak released her from the torture rack and bound her hands behind her back. He dragged her to the back of the cell and pushed her down to the floor, sneering afterwards. Through dark, unruly locks she looked up at him, a small smile still on her face. They left her there—injured and almost broken, but alive. 

By the tenth day her insides felt like they were collapsing in on themselves because she hadn’t eaten since before she arrived. Her mouth was dry and her body was sore, and her injuries were not healing fast. Her weapons must have been confiscated when she first blacked out and her comm was also missing. Without the comfort of her lightsaber or a blaster at her side she felt slightly more weakened, as well as doomed. 

It was when she found herself on the floor, unable to physically stand or even attempt to find strength within the Force that the red one came back.  
She could hear his footfalls as he made his way down the corridor and to her cell, momentarily pausing on the other side of the door before entering. While lying down on her side she agonizingly tilted her head to look up at him. His hands were again clasped behind his back as he stood there, with no emotion on his face. If she had the strength to tell him to get lost she would, but kept all sarcastic comments or feverish curses to herself. 

“I know you still want to kill me,” he started. “I can feel the anger within you, even as you slowly approach death.”

Maven wanted to laugh, but she didn’t.

“Your resilience to our questioning is noted, however. No one has ever been able to resist us before, even the Jedi.”

After he spoke he released her binders with a simple wave of his hand. They fell onto the floor behind her, and her muscles tensed themselves. 

Carefully, she managed to push her upper body up off of the floor, coughing in the process. “I…am _no_ Jedi.”

The red one chuckled and slowly clapped his hands. “No, no of course you aren’t. But then what are you?”

Swiftly, he had her up off of the floor, her legs dangling inches from the ground. Using the Force he pushed her hard against the wall, still holding her up high. Maven went to pry invisible hands from her neck but there was nothing there to grasp onto.

“Who are you?” he asked this time, carefully tightening his grip on her windpipe as he moved over to her. 

“None of your kriffing business,” Maven shot back, groaning when she felt pressure against her throat.

He chuckled, “You know I can easily kill you and yet you continue to resist me.”

“Why don’t you? Why not just get it over with?”

Maven was choking now, unable to speak. Her torturer sneered, stifling a growl behind tattooed lips. However, his frustration with her stubbornness didn’t last long as she watched his eyes scan her face, for what she didn’t know.

“The funny thing is, I already know who you are,” he replied. He stepped closer and replaced invisible hands with a real one now locked around her throat. “You think you were sent to kill me when you were really _sold_ to me.”

A look of disbelief shrouded Maven’s face, but she persisted to resist him. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled, “Your family of Dark Side pretenders sold you to me, Maven. We struck a deal long before you set foot in this System.”

“No, that’s a lie!” she exclaimed, now attempting to escape his grasp. “You’re my mission! I’m supposed to destroy you!”

“Destroy me?” he laughed. “No, I’m afraid you’ll never be able to do that.”

Maven cursed at him but he retaliated by tightening his grip. After he had enough of her choking, she felt him loosen it but not let her go.  
“Why would they do that?” she asked in a groan.

The Zabrak sneered, but a grin was hidden behind his lips. “It was a deal of sorts, to prevent me from killing Vanek. I was going to wipe you and your Sith pretenders out for good, but Vanek made an interesting counter offer: instead of taking his life, I would take yours.” He paused, “What he doesn’t know is that one day I’ll kill him anyway, despite any deal we’ve struck.”

Maven went to scream but he quickly quieted her. He continued: “You see, there can only be two Sith: a Master to teach and an Apprentice to crave it. Seeing as my brother and I already fill that criteria, any other Dark Siders must be eliminated. We have been tending to this task for many years, even after the Clone Wars.”

“You’re mad,” Maven countered. “Just because I am compelled to follow the Dark rather than the Light, I’m a threat to you?”

“You do not understand,” he retorted. “That is where your teachings have failed. That is why your mission failed. What did you think Vanek was really going to do with you and your so-called friends? I have seen what you are capable of, hidden deep in the recesses of your mind. I know who you are and what you can do, despite all of your efforts to resist me.”

Maven’s golden eyes grew wide, not wanting to believe a word of what the Sith had been saying. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He smirked and twirled a lock of Maven’s dark, dirtied hair in one hand while the other stiffened around her throat. She felt a sickness rise from the pit of her stomach, especially when he pushed the lock away from her face. 

“You should be grateful that I have not decided to kill you, yet,” he stated. “You will be my pet until I decide otherwise. It is a shame, really. If I did not already have an apprentice I would have highly considered you.”

“You’re kriffing mad!” Maven exclaimed, but again, he quieted her before she could continue.

“You are my slave now, and as long as you do what I ask my brother and I will not kill you,” he retorted. “And I know what you are, _girl_. As long as you do as I say I might not decide to resell you to the highest bidder.”

Maven was momentarily speechless as thoughts became rampant in her mind. She would kill Vanek if she ever escaped the hell she found herself in, and Dren and Valenar as well for their added betrayal. As used and upset that she wanted to feel she tried to set those emotions aside less they get the better of her. Now, she had to concentrate on the task at hand: attempt to escape.

“Who’s to say you won’t kill me tomorrow? The next day? What’s keeping you from that, huh?” she demanded.

“Honestly, I do not know,” the Sith replied, jokingly. “But continue to test me and I most certainly will.”

Maven kept quiet and lowered her gaze, using what little strength she had left not to lash out again. The red one took this as a subtle sign of submission and lowered her to the ground but didn’t loosen his hold around her neck.

“You will be kept here with my brother and I, obeying our every command. Any attempt on our lives and you will be cut off from the Force entirely. If you obey me without any retaliation there may be some benefits for you in the future,” he stated.

Maven continued to stare down at the floor, hiding her face as it was flushed with anger. The Zabrak removed his hand from her neck and grabbed her jaw instead, turning her head up to look at him. 

“You will learn to please us no matter how much you do not want to,” he added. “You can try to defy me all you want, but you know that I will win and you will lose. Your only purpose now is to serve me, and if you do so willingly I will not hurt you. Truthfully, I should not be keeping you alive; it is against my better judgment. But you are… _unique_. Kindness does not flow through my veins but I am sure that you will find my methods less painful than anything you have already suffered.”

Tears flowed freely now from Maven’s eyes as she stared up at her captor, defiantly trying to hide any frivolous emotion that was already plastered on her face. She wasn’t terrified. Instead, a rage was beginning to fill itself within her, and it was taking everything she had not to lash out and be beaten in attempt. “You’re a monster,” she managed to choke out. “One day I _will_ kill you.”

“You may try, but you will not succeed,” he replied.

Without another word he forced her away from the wall, his hand gripping her shoulder as he pushed her in front of himself. Maven tripped but managed to regain her balance, as the Zabrak pushed her forwards out of the room.

“Where are we going?” she asked, now wiping away any tears that had stained her face. “And what am I to call my new Master?” she added, sarcastically.

Maven could feel him behind her, her head barely high enough to reach his shoulders. They came to a halt, and she could sense him bend down, lowering his head so that his lips were close to her ear. 

In but a whisper he replied, “I am Darth Maul.”


	4. The Harsh Impact of Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but I promise the chapters get longer and more intense after this.

_Darth Maul_. The name sounded familiar but she didn’t know why. She was never allowed to partake in any research about Dark Siders less they came about in their assigned mission directives, which were rare. The majority of Vanek’s targets were regular smugglers or vigilantes; simple scum who wouldn’t know what the Force even was. Maven knew that Vanek must have been hiding secrets from his pupils, but they never pried and she had no reason to push any boundaries. Valenar and Dren were frequently hired and paid handsomely for their work, and that’s all they ever seemed to care about. Maven, on the other hand, hadn’t been on any mission save the one that almost got her killed and had never left Altair 9 before. She would have been lying to herself in saying that she didn’t want to know more about her past, but she had a roof over her head, a bed to sleep in, and food in her stomach. Looking for answers would have only made things worse. 

Maven couldn’t remember who she’d been before Vanek had found her. When he did, she had been fighting to survive on Byss, a system known for it’s slave trade, and prior to that she had no memories of her former life. Vanek was no father figure, not even a brother, but he was someone when there had been no one before. He was a mentor of sorts, and taught her about the Force and its infinite power—the Dark Side, the Light, and the Grey. She knew that the Jedi strove for peace while the Sith fought for power, and that they had been wiped out in the war they had waged against each other years ago. That was why Vanek chose his clientele so carefully, and why he waited so long before sending Maven away. He was careful and calculating, and only let his pupils take their lightsabers with them if he was confident that they were going to follow through with their mission. With their targets dead there wouldn’t be anyone alive to gossip about any Force users gallivanting around the galaxy as rogue bounty hunters.   
Although Maven had felt a connection to the Dark Side, there was still always something missing. She often felt like an empty shell that was lacking some sort of depth, whether it was forgotten knowledge or some kind of purpose. As stubborn and head-strong as she was, she refused to dive deeper into her own history less she get on Vanek’s bad side and be thrown back out onto the streets. She was confident that she could fend for herself, but to what purpose? What would she do in order to create sustainability? One wrong move and she might lose her temper; whip out her blaster pistol and accidentally kill someone of importance, and then she’d have her own bounty on her head. No, she wasn’t going to run headfirst into anything. She had decided long before she went on her mission that she would return to Vanek and the others because there at least she had safety.

The thought of it made Maven chuckle from the irony and Darth Maul nudged her roughly in response, ushering her through multiple corridors before stopping at a door. As it slid open, Maul’s brother was standing inside to greet them, as was an IT-O Interrogation Droid. Maven froze as the door closed behind her, and Maul rolled his eyes before grabbing her and yanking her forwards.   
As the droid moved towards her she noticed that it was operating some kind of device that looked like a syringe. Before she could even begin to struggle, the yellow Zabrak was behind her, holding her arms behind her back.

“The more you struggle the more it will hurt,” he stated. 

The droid proceeded to cut open the shoulder of Maven’s stealth suit, revealing pale flesh underneath.

“Oh, that’s comforting,” she grumbled. “What is that? What are you going to do to me?”

The question was directed at Maul, who was standing across from her.

“You are being implanted with a tracker, which will allow me to find you if you ever even attempt to escape,” he replied. “Or would you rather me bind a collar and chain around your neck?”

Maven narrowed her eyes at him but was taken by surprise when the needle entered her arm and the device was inserted. She cursed out loud, hissing as the syringe was removed.

When the droid finished it loomed away and Maul’s brother let her go. Maven shook herself off of him and examined her arm; her leather sleeve was completely torn and her arm was already beginning to bruise. 

“Thanks for that,” she retorted in a sigh. “So now what? Going to force me to dance like some Twi’lek slave girl, or tie me to your throne like the Hutts?”

Maul smirked and his brother grumbled.

“She does make a good point,” he replied, looking over at his brother. “What do you think, Savage? Would you want to tie her to your bedside? Maybe I’ll let you have her for the night.”

The larger Zabrak growled in response. “Why don’t you bathe her? She smells like a dead Bantha.”

Maven’s jaw went slack from embarrassment as she watched Maul’s brother take his leave. His footfalls were so loud as he left that it sounded as if he was stomping his way down the corridor. She turned her attention back to Maul, crossing her arms with a look of disbelief still on her face.   
Maul didn’t respond. Instead, he just shook his head before ushering her back out of the room.

He took her into an elevator and down two floors, the pain in her injured ankle making her want to scream. Attempting to dull the pain, she turned her attention to her surroundings; taking note of what rooms they were passing and which she was being taken to. They finally halted in front of a door with a keypad faced into the durasteel wall, of which Maul proceeded to enter a code. After the doors slid open he nudged her inside and followed after.

Another droid was there to greet them; a modified R3-Unit, which beeped at them in greeting. 

“Tend to her injuries, make sure she is bathed and fed, and do not let her leave the room,” Maul instructed.

The droid beeped at him in reply.

“So, are these my new quarters?” Maven asked sarcastically. “Is this where you keep all your slaves, or do you just store them in that pleasant torture chamber?”

Maul grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and squeezed. Maven let out a cry and attempted to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go. 

“Keep up with your remarks and I will strap you right back on the torture rack,” he replied, his voice unsettling. “Unless you would prefer one of our bedchambers?”

Maul released her from his grip, which allowed her to shake her head in response. 

“Good,” he replied.

He left then, the doors sliding closed behind him. The droid quickly ushered Maven further into the room, where it clicked and beeped at her in Basic, but she couldn’t decipher its words. 

She couldn’t respond to anything that happened after that—the droid tending to her fractured rib and sprained ankle, wrapping her in bacta patches, helping her to strip off her clothes, nudging her into the room’s adjacent refresher to bathe, or helping to redress her when she’d finished. Even as it set a tray of food down she didn’t move to touch it; only stared out blankly in front of her without any emotion. The droid beeped in agitation, and after several failed attempts to get her to eat, it left, defeated. When it was finally gone Maven sank to her knees and tears began to flow. She curled herself into a ball on the floor and stayed like that throughout the night, crying until she couldn’t anymore and beating her fists into the ground until her knuckles were bloodied. 

Several hours had passed when Maven woke up, unaware that she had even fallen asleep. Having been lying on the floor she stretched as she sat up, rubbing her wounded side in discomfort. The room was quiet with the droid gone; dimly lit and clean, unlike her previous chamber. Although it also lacked any sort of viewpoints it made up for the aesthetics in housing a simple bed, adjacent refresher, and a table with her untouched food still on it. Moving over to her meal she sniffed it, holding the plate up in front of her as she inspected it closely. Although it was cold she took a small bite, and after discovering that it wasn’t in fact poisoned she proceeded to eat all of it.   
After eating she sat down on the edge of the bed, taking in her surroundings. Her previous attire was lying in a ball on the floor and she now wore a plain tunic and cut-off slacks instead. She hoped that she would at least be provided with better clothing, as she missed wearing her stealth suit as much as she missed having her lightsaber at her side. Her hair was still wet from bathing, and she twirled a long lock of it between her fingers, taking in its clean smell with a small sniff—mint and vanilla.

Making her way into the adjacent refresher she took a few moments to look at herself in the mirror, staring into the eyes of someone who she thought she knew. Her dark, curly hair was tamer than it had been in days, but her wild eyes now looked sullen and empty. Fortunately, the swelling in her left eye was beginning to recede and was no longer swollen shut. She carefully touched the slight puffiness of it, hissing as she did so. The long scar she had on her upper lip hadn’t changed, tracing her fingers along it as it moved up her cheek. She had that scar for as long as she could remember, of which only went back as far as to when Vanek found her. Frowning, she turned away, not wanting to look at herself any further.   
Limping her way back to the bed she laid down and let her eyes close, foolishly hoping that when she’d wake up it would all have been just a nightmare.


	5. The Changeling

Maven was awake when the R3-Unit came back, carrying a new tray of food. It set it down on her lap and beeped afterwards, instructing her to eat.

“What time is it?” Maven asked, ignoring it.

The droid chirped a response but she couldn’t understand him.

“Nevermind,” she replied in a sigh before eating her meal. 

The droid had brought her a new set of garments, which it handed to her with its mechanical appendage after she’d finished eating. Maven examined the attire, making a face as she held up a more revealing outfit than the last.

“Am I really supposed to wear this?” she asked, holding out the garment and waving it at the droid.

The droid chirped.

Maven sighed and changed her clothing, putting on a tight pair of waist-high pants, boots, and a cropped jacket that barely covered her stomach. The entire outfit was made out of some type of leather, but wasn’t as breathable as the fabric from her own clothing. Although the top didn’t even cover her entire torso, its sleeves ran down the length of her arms. The material was a dark gray color, the pants and boots different shades of black. Maven wondered who Maul had to kill to get garments like this and what purpose they were for. They weren’t the type clothing that a typical slave would wear, and Maven laughed at the thought that they probably belonged to a bounty hunter like herself. 

When she’d finished changing the droid beeped at her and began ushering her towards the door.

“Wait, where are we going?”

Again, the droid replied but Maven couldn’t understand it. She made a mental note to never ask it any questions ever again.

The R3-Unit nudged her into the corridor and down the hall. Maven was continuously tugging on the hem of her top, attempting to pull it down to cover up more of her skin. The droid paid no mind to her discomfort as they walked toward the same elevator she had used a day prior and they traveled up several floors. She continued to follow the droid out of the elevator and down yet another corridor, attempting to memorize her way. Again, they paused in front of a door but no key code was necessary this time as it easily slid open for them. 

The droid had taken her to a large, open room that housed various types of mining equipment and machinery. Though long abandoned, Maven had researched that the facility had been used to mine chromium and other ores from the core of the planet. Like other Outer Rim planets in the Anoat System, Mataou had been mined dry and was left with a dusty, desert surface.  
Everything in the room was in shambles or rusted, and looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. Parts of the duracrete ceiling had fallen through, sending bits of light from outside into the chamber. It smelled like dirt and durasteel, and as they continued forward Maven could hear what sounded like a lightsaber being used in the distance.

They eventually paused in an open area that lacked as many machines. Maul stood at the center with dozens of Marksman-H Seeker droids buzzing in the air around him, sending cascades of blaster bolts in his direction. He deflected every single shot, parrying and vaulting his way around them. It took Maven a second to realize that he was using her lightsaber, and it sparked a frustration that caused her to shout at him. 

“Hey! That’s mine!” she exclaimed, now taking several steps towards him.

The R3-Unit followed behind her, cautiously chirping in her direction. She shushed it, and continued glaring at the thief. He stopped what he was doing and pushed a command on his comlink, making the Seeker droids cease their onslaught. Still panting from his training he extinguished the lightsaber and attached it to his belt, ignoring Maven’s outburst. 

“What are you doing with my lightsaber?” Maven demanded.

The R3-Unit beeped but Maven ignored it.

“A slave should know when to speak and when not to speak,” Maul replied. “Leave us,” he commanded at the droid, which obeyed and quickly scurried off.

Maven kept her eyes on her captor, trying not to ball her hands into fists to display any agitation. Maul finally started walking towards her; close enough so that she could see the perspiration still trickling down his face and tattooed chest. She lowered her gaze, breathing in a deep sigh and attempting to bury any frustration or let her eyes linger. 

“Good, you’re learning,” he noted. “Now you may speak.”

“What are you doing with my lightsaber?” Maven asked again, carefully.

“Is it not obvious?” he replied, nonchalantly. “It is my understanding that Vanek trained you, although rather horribly, in lightsaber combat. Since you are but a slave, your saber is now mine.”

Maven’s lip quivered in agitation but she kept her gaze lowered. She didn’t dare make a remark on her saber’s secreted duel hilt, which split apart into two weapons, but if Maul was as wise as he claimed to be, he’d figure it out on his own.

“Dare to make a move?” Maul asked, her saber now in his open palm. 

“Stop it,” she replied, looking up at him.

He snickered. “Ah, maybe one day you will but for now…” he paused, holstering the saber back to his belt. “…For now you are on cleaning duty.”

Maven furrowed her brow, “Cleaning duty?”

“Yes, isn’t that what I just said?” Maul replied, closing the gap between them. “You are to clean our armor, garments, and my bedchamber until a time comes when I have another use of you.”

“That’s it?”

Maul frowned, “Were you expecting something else?” 

He stepped closer to her, too close for Maven’s comfort. She went to step back but Maul caught her arm, holding it tight enough to keep her from moving but not enough to harm her. He looked her over, perhaps out of admiration or just mere curiosity, but she set her gaze away from him, feeling disgusted.

“You don’t seem to like the attire that was provided,” he stated.

Maven wasn’t sure how to respond.

She paused, making sure to take a breath. “I look ridiculous.”

“No, you don’t,” he replied, bending closer.

Maven turned her head away and closed her eyes, fighting against the instinct to run, but with her injuries and Maul’s strength she wouldn’t make it very far. She could feel him inhale against her hair, his grip tightening around her arm. It was then that she pulled back as fast as she could, stumbling from her limp ankle and almost falling to the floor in the process. Now out of his grasp but still very close to him she wondered if she had made a mistake as a growl escaped his lips.

Thinking fast she replied, “Sorry, I-ah, I like the clothes.”

“Don’t ever lie to me, girl,” he replied, suppressing his own anger. “A slave does not speak unless spoken to. A slave doesn’t talk or fight back.”  
Again, he closed the gap between them and had his hand on her jaw, forcing her to stare up at him. “A slave submits.” 

Maven frowned as she felt Maul using the Force against her. She struggled against it, preparing to create a shield around herself to prevent him from taking control. Maul pushed further, trying to force his way inside her mind and make her submit to his will. 

“I’ll never give into you or your brother,” she remarked through gritted teeth.

“You have no choice in the matter, _slave_ ,” he replied in a snarl. “Let me in. Submit to me, and no further harm will come to you.”

“I’d rather die,” she replied in a groan, now straining against him.

“Keep this up and I will make you wish that,” he said. “I know what you are and I’ll use that against you. Stop struggling and I won’t.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

In an instant she felt herself slacken as he pushed more forcefully than he ever had against her barrier and went inside her mind. Her body became frozen in place, vibrating with a low hum as Maul used his telekinetic energy to hold her still as he swept through thoughts and memories. Maven strained just to close her eyes from the painful pressure of it all, feeling as if her head was going to explode. The worst of it was that she could see and sense everything that he was picking and pulling out in her head, and she could do nothing to prevent it.

“Ah, there it is,” he spoke, a small smile playing across his face.

Maven wanted to reply but couldn’t and a groan escaped her lips instead. A memory flooded her mind, coming to her as if it were a dream. A little boy playing with his parents, his mother pushing dark locks away from his face. She kissed him before his father grabbed him and twirled him in the air, laughing together as he did so. The boy was probably only three years old at the time and the mother and father in their thirties. The woman was dressed in a flight suit, the man in brown robes, and before Maven could continue deciphering the long lost memory, reality came rushing back into view as Maul released her. 

She was panting when their connection broke, staring at Maul apprehensively.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Your memories have been blocked. I sensed it the first time I interrogated you,” he replied, his voice serious. “You have no memories from when you were a child. Why I cannot say,” he paused. “The child in that memory is you.”

“You’re mad!” she exclaimed in reply. “This whole thing is mad!”

“I was mad once, yes,” Maul remarked. “But this is not.”

Maven was shaking and having a difficult time staying focused.

“Now you know why Vanek sold you to me, and probably would have sold you off regardless.”

Maven wanted to shout at him; beat him; use the Force to rip his arms and legs from his body, but she hadn’t the strength. Too many questions were flooding her brain at a capacity that she could not sort through and didn’t know where to begin. 

“This can’t be true,” she mumbled, still not believing any of it. 

“The question is how do we find out if it is?” Maul replied, Force-pulling Maven forward so that she was his again.

“Stop it,” she stammered. “Leave me alone!”

“You cannot resist me,” he retorted. “We tried interrogating you for days, and you held up well. Better than anyone ever has. If beating it out of you won’t work, what will?”

She felt his tattooed thumb rub against the bottom of her lip as he cradled her head in his hand. He ran his lips along her jawline and then against her neck, causing a shiver to course through her and forcing her to shut her eyes. His other hand was on the small of her back, but he didn’t need it to hold her in place; his mind was already doing that.

“Let go of me,” she demanded.

“You know when I’m not beating information out of someone, I can be a very intimate lover?” he asked, his mouth now against her ear.

“You mean rapist,” she shot back, defiantly. 

“I would never,” Maul remarked, smirking lightly afterwards.

“You disgust me,” Maven replied. “Even now you’re toying with me. Is this all a game to you?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, his mouth now moving from her ear to her lips. “Let’s find out who will win,” he added before quickly crashing his lips against hers.

If she could have fought back, she would have. If she could have kicked him in the groin, she would have. If she had the strength to send him flying across the room, she would have. But he had her there, locked in place with an invisible energy that prevented her from struggling. The only response she could manage was to bite his lip as hard as she could, causing him to shout and pull away.  
Blood stained her lips as she watched his own dripping down his chin. The sight of him would have struck fear into any non-Force user, but Maven wasn’t fazed. Had he not captured her, tortured her, and forced himself on her she might have found him attractive—all blood, sweat, and brawn—but she was furious.  
He growled and went to grab her neck but in his distraught she had momentarily escaped his telekinetic hold on her. Still limping from her injury, she went to leap backwards instead of run, but he grabbed her ankle mid-jump and pulled her back to the ground. She cried out when she hit the duracrete, clutching her injured side.

“If you had submitted to me none of this would have happened,” Maul said as he loomed over her, holding her hands above her head, the other around her throat.

Before she had the chance to reply he had his lips pressed back against hers, kissing her roughly as he held her down physically and through the Force. This time he didn’t let anything slip his mind as he pinned her there, and when Maven felt his tongue push past her lips and against her own a shiver moved through her. The sensation scared her; she’d never been kissed before, and this was never how she wanted her first one to go, but he made sure that she couldn’t fight against him this time. He was kissing her hard and rough, almost passionately but much more animalistic. The hand that was around her throat moved down to touch her chest, and without meaning to a moan escaped her. He finally pulled his mouth away from hers and moved to kiss her neck, of which left her panting afterward. As she felt him bite and suck on her skin she shut her eyes, struggling to compose herself. 

“Submit to me,” he spoke, his breath hot against her ear.

“Never,” Maven replied as harshly as she could, before Maul began kissing her again in response.

He was pushing his weight against her now and she could smell the sweat on him. As he moved his tongue against hers he slid his hand underneath her jacket, causing her to let out a groan.

“Don’t fight it,” he breathed in between kisses, going from sucking on her bottom lip to nipping at her neck.

It was becoming too much for her. She was beginning to feel dizzy, even sick. The sensations coursing through her system were a mixture of arousal, sickness, and anger that she still had bottled up inside herself. As he continued to kiss her it became difficult to focus, and when she felt his tongue run along her collarbone a pain shot through her that caused her to scream.

Bones felt like they were breaking and her body burning from the inside out. The pain was so intense that her surprised scream quickly quieted and she clutched onto herself as the wave it her. In the agony of it she rolled in on herself, clutching her sides in misery, her vision going white.  
Maul had moved away from her, watching as her body started to convulse. It became so painful that she was no longer crying out, only holding onto herself as her body began shifting form. The process happened fast—her arms and legs grew and became more muscular and hardened; her long, unruly hair receded in length and ceased when it had reached her broadened shoulders; her round face became more elongated and angular, her brows thickening and her jaw widening. Her clothing ripped in places as her body grew, splitting down the back as she hunched over in discomfort. If her eyes weren’t tightly shut in attempt to dull the pain she would have watched as her hands grew, clawing at the duracrete beneath her. If pain wasn’t racking the entirety of her body she would have noticed as her feet became squished inside the boots she was wearing with her toes now painfully digging into the soles. At the end of the ordeal she was crying, her voice now a lower tone. After it ended she was covered in a thin layer of sweat, quietly crying.

They didn’t move for a few seconds, which felt like hours in Maven’s mind. She couldn’t think straight. Although she was no longer in pain, there was unfamiliarity in her being, and she was too nervous to move.  
She heard the Zabrak move first and when she felt him touch her she twisted around, falling backwards from her lack of balance. 

Maul hadn’t said a word, but continued to move towards her. Still feeling uneasy, she attempted to stand up but fell back down as her knees buckled beneath her. Back on the duracrete, she looked down at herself, her eyes wide.

She thought that she could hear Maul talking but it was as if something was clouded over him, and she couldn’t process his words.

“Maven, you’re in shock,” he said, and she could feel him on her then, grabbing her arms to lift her up.

“Stop it!” She exclaimed, sporadically sending a Force blast away from her in all directions.

The blast forced Maul to be pushed back several feet. He had his arms braced out in front of him to shield the majority of it, and had a surprised look on his face when Maven stared up at him from her position on the ground.

“Listen to me—” he started.

She pushed herself up to her feet, ignoring him. Looking around, she noticed that she was much higher than she had been when she was standing earlier. As she looked down at her hands, which were unusually large, Maul stepped cautiously towards her. 

“Maven, look at me,” he said, his voice stern.

As she did so, she noticed that she was taller than before. While she was barely tall enough to reach his shoulders only a few moments ago, now she stood up to his chin. Tears were welling in her eyes now from the confusion of it all, and when she felt like she was going to collapse Maul grabbed onto him, holding him upright.

“Look at me,” Maul instructed, holding onto his face.

Maven did so, barely blinking.

“You’re a shape-shifter,” he said, choosing his words carefully. 

He looked at Maul, his mouth agape not from pain but from shock. His golden eyes were glassy but there were no tears. He looked down at his hands as Maul held onto his arms, slowly turning them around and seeming unfamiliar with his now broadened fingers, large knuckles, and hardened appearance. 

Maul was calling his name again as Maven stared down at his hands, continuing to examine them as if he were seeing them for the first time. Growing irritated, Maul swiftly used his abilities to put the other to sleep and carefully placed him on the duracrete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know--you're all probably going, "What the actual fuck" right now. As stated in the beginning, this little story that I've created doesn't adhere to the M/F pairing. It may or may not, but since I haven't finished it yet I don't know what's going to happen.
> 
> Questions as to who and what Maven is will be answered as the story continues.
> 
> Just roll with it.


	6. The Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I come bearing two new chapters! I apologize for taking a long time to upload, but I only like to post when I am a few chapters ahead. I also don't have the time to write everyday and I am doing this for my own enjoyment (and I hope it's been enjoyable for you as well) so uploads will probably only take place once a week or so.
> 
> I also wanted to note something important that will most likely not be addressed in the story because it's not necessarily important to the plot. In this, Darth Maul doesn't have mechanical legs. He has actual legs--REAL legs. If you want to even look deeper into it, Savage also has a REAL arm, as he lost an arm during The Clone Wars. I could have let him keep his mechanical arm, but if I'm giving Maul back his legs well then that wouldn't be fair to his little brother.
> 
> No backstory is needed for this because it's not addressed in this story, but in my own mind I imagine that Mother Talzin would have played a part in recovering Maul's actual limbs since she was the one who basically gave him back his life.
> 
> And when I say that he has his legs back, I mean EVERYTHING from the torso down. 
> 
> Why am I doing this? For the readers enjoyment, of course.

It was becoming all too common for Maven to be waking up in a cell, even if it was his own. His body felt ridged as he sat up in bed, hissing and rubbing his injured side that still had bacta patches wrapped around it. It took him a moment to realize that he was back in his bedchamber, and that he was no longer wearing anything to cover his torso. Looking down at his bare chest that was absent breasts, his eyes widened as the shock set back in. It took him even longer to discover that there were two Zabraks standing on the far side of the room to greet him. Immediately his posture stiffened and he unconsciously maneuvered himself further away from them.

When Maul went to take a step fowards Maven shouted at him, “Don’t come any closer!” 

Maul stopped and his brother watched quietly, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What did you do to me?” Maven asked, his voice cracking slightly. He coughed afterward, trying to clear his throat and feeling uneasy with his new set of vocal chords. 

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he replied, ignoring the younger man’s demand as he continued to step closer. “Aside from days of torturous interrogation, of course.”

“S-Stop!” Maven exclaimed, backing himself into a corner on the bed.

As Maul continued Maven scrambled off of the bed, falling down in the process. He cursed and managed to get back up onto his feet, his hands going to his side to un-holster a lightsaber that wasn’t there. 

“E-chu-ta!” he cursed to himself, backing up towards the adjacent wall as Maul circled him. “What do you want from me?”

“My brother is only trying to help you,” the other Zabrak retorted, still watching from afar. 

“Your brother turned me into a man!” Maven shot back, hands now raised in defense. “Take one step closer and I’ll throw you across the room.”

Maul paused, a light smirk on his lips. “Ah, yes. You do seem to be more physically powerful in this form. Maybe we should test his capabilities?”

“Like hell you are!” he exclaimed. “The only thing you’re doing is putting me back in my real body.”

Maul rolled his eyes, “That _is_ your real body. Need I remind you that you are my _slave_ , and slaves don’t talk back to their masters?”

Maven’s body went slack as Maul used the Force to tame his pet. His body was quietly vibrating as Maul kept him locked in place with his arms forced down to his sides. He looked at Maul wide-eyed as the Dathomirian stepped closer and would have stammered if he had the ability to talk. Maul briefly narrowed his eyes, not in frustration but out of curiosity. When he moved to brush his hand against the other’s cheek Maven managed to abruptly pull back despite Maul’s Force hold on him. 

“Don’t touch me!” Maven stammered, clearly frightened and confused. 

“You are very strong,” Maul observed. He turned away, looking back towards his younger brother. “Savage, why don’t you see what the boy can do?”

Savage frowned from his brother’s command but nodded in reply. As Maul left the room his hold on Maven abruptly vanished, leaving him stumbling in surprise. The yellow Zabrak proceeded to take a few slow steps closer and Maven held up his hands defensively.

“You stay away from me too or I’ll kill you,” he stated, but his tone didn’t sound confident.

The larger man sneered but didn’t reply. 

As he continued to move closer Maven shouted at him defiantly, “I’m warning you!”

Savage paused, looking the other over. Instead of going for his saberstaff he held out his hands and with a force of energy he manifested Force lightning that sparked over his palms. “Give it your best shot,” he replied, before sending the first volt directly towards him.

A barrier instantly formed in front of Maven, shielding him from the blow. He was forced backwards from the strength of the volt, but clenched his jaw and held it until the lightning subsided. When the next volley of lightning came Maven sent another shield up, catching the electricity and sending it sparking around him. As Savage sent his last and most powerful volt towards him Maven managed to keep his barrier raised, letting it disperse only when the Zabrak had finished his attack.  
Panting, Maven stared back at his torturer; sweat dripping from his brow. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep this up, especially since he didn’t know what he was capable of in his new body. Savage growled as he sent another volley of blue lightning at him and Maven struggled to catch the blow, groaning as he was sent down to his knee from the force of the attack. The Dathomirian didn’t let up and kept pushing hot electricity from his fingertips towards his victim, sparks dancing off the ceiling and floor. Maven was struggling now, his body shaking from the exertion. When Savage sent another powerful blow it finally broke his barrier and pushed him backwards, making him hit the wall behind him. When the lightning danced off of the boy’s skin he cried out in pain and went limp when it dispersed. 

Maven groaned as he attempted to get up but any movement sparked a new wave of agony. As Savage approached him he managed to look up at his attacker, grimacing from the ordeal.   
Maven was frightened for the first real time in his life and not because two Zabraks had captured and tortured him for days. He was scared and confused about who he was—who he _really_ was. He figured he’d been fed lies ever since Vanek had taken him in, and during some early point in his life someone had made sure to eliminate everything about his past. He had no idea why any of this was happening to him; what Vanek truly wanted out of him or even Maul. Despite his inner self yelling at him to stand up and fight back, he sat there cowering like a frightened animal that had just been caught in a trap and didn’t know what to do.

When Savage approached him and kneeled down so that he was eye-level with the other, Maven immediately went to move away but hissed in pain. He briefly looked down at his bare arms and torso, which now had light burn marks streaked across his skin. The Zabrak silently stared at him for a moment longer before moving his hand towards him and Maven flinched in response. Savage held his hand against Maven’s shoulder for a moment longer before going to grab his arm and help him to stand up.  
Maven struggled, trying to force his way out of the other’s grasp as he managed to stand. 

“Stop struggling or you’ll make it worse,” Savage stated, wanting to grip him forcefully so that Maven would stay still, but not wanting to hurt him further.

“You’re a monster; you’re both monsters,” Maven mumbled in reply, his voice cracking. 

The pain grew worse but Maven continued attempting to pry out of the Zabrak’s grasp, but Savage was tightly holding him by the arms now. His skin felt like it was on fire, and the assortment of other injuries he’d received over the past few days weren’t helping either. 

Although he was physically stronger in his new body, Savage was something else entirely. The Zabrak still stood drastically taller than the other; even now Maven barely stood up to his shoulders. When the sinking feeling of defeat finally hit Maven as hard as the lightning that was thrown, his body collapsed and Savage was forced to hold him upright. He was crying now, as odd as it was in the other’s arms, but his emotions had finally caught up to him. Savage looked down quizzically at him, unsure about how to proceed as the boy started weeping against his chest, his smaller body shaking against him. Standing like that for a few uncomfortable moments Savage realized that the boy was not going to move and sighed before picking him up and carrying him back to his bed. 

Maven was far from thrilled when he found himself being hauled away by the other, especially when he saw where they were headed. Panicking, he started flailing, almost kicking Savage in the face with his foot. 

Savage growled in annoyance, “Stop struggling! I’m not doing anything to you!”

The Dathomirian practically threw Maven down onto the bed, wanting to be rid of him. As Maven braced himself for whatever he assumed might happen next, Savage left the room instead. 

Maven was only greeted by the R3-Unit over the next few days, of which he was relieved. His new wounds were tended to—the most prevalent scar from the Force lightning streaked across his chest. He sighed as he looked in the mirror, running his fingers along it. It moved from his left ribcage up across the right side of his chest, fading into his collarbone. The rest of his scars were scattered along his arms and were thankfully much duller. Fortunately, the swelling in his eye had fully receded and he could see clearly again, and his ankle was healing. His side was still wrapped in bacta patches, as was his foot, of which the droid helped administer. 

At first when the droid came after Maven’s encounter with Savage the R3-Unit greatly frightened him. He kept as far away from it as he could, and the droid unknowingly chased him to give him his daily meals and medication. After three days Maven finally let it change the bacta and administer medication for his wounds. He was still weary over the droid but tried to enjoy its company nonetheless. 

Maven spent hours attempting to understand his new physical form and forcibly attempted to change back into his female body but to no avail. He had no idea what else his abilities allowed him to do but was too nervous to open that door and find out. Instead, he tried to meditate to calm his nerves and when that did not tame the anxiousness within him he took to practicing combat techniques. He frequently stumbled and missed his marks while training, as his new suitor was much larger and less agile than his female body. When his training failed to exhaust his distress he paced around his bedchamber, unconsciously itching his skin like it was some foreign object. He felt as though he was going mad, unable to see reasoning as to why all of this was happening—unable to trace back any remnants of memories that had been taken from him and forced into a body that wasn’t his own, despite knowing that it was.   
Although an anxious knot was now deeply rooted inside his gut he forced himself to practice his training, willing to do anything to take his mind away from his confusion.


	7. The Brother

Two days had passed and Maven was practicing his drills, clothed in a light tunic and slacks that the droid had provided. He’d managed to remove a strip of metal from underneath his bed, which he improvised for his confiscated lightsaber. Though he was still anxious, his practicing was slowly improving in his new form. The droid usually came by a few times throughout the day but had yet to make an appearance, but Maven continued training and tried not to think about it.

Sensing something through the Force he was roused from his current stance and stood up, stiffening. As it came closer he realized that Maul or Savage was coming from down the corridor, and he took to a defensive position, clutching the metal pole to stop his hands from shaking. When the door slid open it was the larger Zabrak who approached, absent his older red-skinned brother. 

Savage stepped forward, dropping an assortment of armor and garments on the floor. The droid rolled in after him, beeping as it set cleaning supplies down as well. Maven watched him, not wavering from his position.

“My brother wants you to clean this until you’re well enough to tend to his bedchamber,” the Dathomirian stated.

“Like hell I’m going to his bedchamber,” Maven retorted, his voice defiant yet small.

“You will do as your master commands you, slave,” he replied, sternly. 

“And what about you?” he added, mentally cursing at himself for having even asked. 

“What about me?” Savage asked, not amused. 

Maven kept his weapon held up, fingers tightly curled around it. “It just seems like he’s the one in charge. If he’s the master than what are you?”

Savage was on him then, Maven’s weapon useless as the Zabrak ripped it out of his hands and threw it across the room. Maven attempted to back up but the other man grabbed him by the shirt collar and shoved him against the nearest wall. The droid was beeping wildly behind them and Savage turned to growl at it, causing it to nervously chirp and scurry off. 

When Savage looked back at Maven the boy was shaking but obviously trying to hold himself together. The Zabrak gave him a once-over before he released him and went to leave. 

“It would be wise for you to watch what you say to me, slave,” Savage stated. “Or I can be as cruel as my brother.”

Maven spent the rest of the day cleaning the supplies that Savage had left, sitting on the floor as he scrubbed away blood, dirt, sweat, and the Maker knows what else. He’d been left a metal chest plate, shoulder pads, an array of guards and other metal pieces, as well as leather buckles and boots. The bucket he’d been using to clean with had turned a light crimson by the time he’d finished and he was quick to shower to be rid of the death that likely stained his hands.   
During the following day, after the droid had changed Maven’s bacta, Savage came again with a new pile of garments to clean. Maven quickly yanked his shirt down back over his newly bandaged torso, making the droid beep in annoyance, as it hadn’t finished yet. The Zabrak didn’t stay long and was silent the entire time, but his lingering gaze made Maven’s throat go dry. 

This routine continued over the next few days until it seemed like Maven had scrubbed every last piece of fabric the brothers had ever owned. He was bored, irritated, and his hands were continuously pruned or bleeding from scrubbing too hard, but he was relieved that Maul hadn’t paid him a visit in awhile. Instead, Savage came to bring him new pieces of clothing or armor to wash every day, sometimes staying for a little longer than expected to eyeball Maven’s room.  
Maven watched him when Savage’s eyes had lingered for a while in the direction of his bed, and before he had realized what he was doing the Dathomirian had removed the metal pole that Maven had been hiding beneath his mattress. Savage held it up, examining the metal edge that had now been sharpened to a point. Maven was standing, his hands balled into agitated fists.

“That’s mine,” he stated simply.

“You don’t need it,” Savage replied, twirling the rod in his hand. He let it spin a few times before breaking the piece in half and then pocketed them.

Maven’s lip twitched in frustration but his nervousness outweighed his anger. 

“You’re really going to leave me without a weapon?”

The Zabrak turned towards him, raising a brow. “Why would you need a weapon?”

“In case one of you decides to kill me,” he replied.

“When will you realize that we’re not going to hurt you?”

Maven wanted to laugh but couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he retorted, “How about a week spent strapped to a torture rack as evidence?”

Savage shrugged his shoulders, “That was then; this is now, and right now I’m not going to harm you unless you give me a reason to.”

The Zabrak stared expressionlessly back at him and Maven was the one to break his gaze. He had no reason to trust Savage but was left with no other options than to keep quiet and follow orders if he wanted to stay alive. Maven held his ground as the other approached him, his footfalls heavy against the floor. Although Maven was forcing himself not to look at him he could sense the other tilt his head as if he was examining him.

“Good; you’re learning,” Savage stated, his hand now gripping Maven’s jaw as he forced the shorter man to look at him.

Maven wrapped his hands around Savage’s arm but any attempt at prying the other off of him was useless. When he could sense the other’s anger start to build Maven reluctantly let his hands fall down to his sides, clenching his jaw as he let the other do what he wanted. 

“Look at me, slave,” Savage commanded.

Maven’s lip twitched but he did as he was asked, looking back up at him.

“Good,” he added, his face still expressionless. “Maybe you will yet make a decent slave, once you realize I’m no longer a threat.”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Maven remarked.

“You should be thankful I no longer wish to kill you,” Savage replied.

“And why is that?” Maven added, but then wished he’d think before he let words pour out of his mouth.

Savage growled and Maven could see pointed canines beneath his tattooed lips. He wasn’t sure what he’d said but it made the Zabrak let go of his grip and walk out without another word. 

Maven had all of the garments cleaned the following day and had managed to remove another metal piece from his bed to practice with. Although it was much shorter than the other he made do, wanting to make sure that he continued training so he’d quickly improve his skill as his male counterpart.   
Although the chamber they were keeping him in wasn’t large or lavish, he had enough room to maneuver some spins and vaulted turns without landing on the opposite wall. He had to relearn everything that he had been taught previously, as his new body was too large for the same aerial maneuvers he was used to. What he had to make up for his loss in speed he gained in strength and found that he could practice for a much longer period of time before tiring. The droid sometimes visited and often placed itself in a corner of the room to watch him, occasionally beeping at him with words he still couldn’t understand. Maven was growing more comfortable in his new form, silently planning his escape despite his current situation. The tracker in his arm would be a nuisance, as he would have to painfully remove it somehow, but he’d figure out a way when the time came. 

As he continued to practice he had removed his tunic and concentrated on his drills, ignoring any discomfort he felt without the garment. As he moved, perspiration danced along his scars, which had fully healed. The droid had also removed all of his bacta patches, and for the first time since he’d arrived he felt physically well again. Although he sometimes strained his muscles too hard he kept pushing himself, because when he was practicing his anxious mind was finally calm.  
As he was going over blocking and parrying the door to his chamber slid open and Savage stepped through, this time without anything for Maven to clean. The droid beeped after he had entered, throwing off Maven’s concentration and causing him to stop his drill. When he looked over at Savage his grip on his weapon tightened knowing that it would probably be taken away.

“Nothing to clean today?” Maven asked with an awakened hint of sarcasm.

The Zabrak had crossed his arms across his chest and frowned. Maven noticed that he was no longer wearing as much armor as usual; his large, metal shoulder pads as well as chest plate had been removed. Instead he wore a dark tunic much like his older brother, but the rest of his attire hadn’t been altered. 

“What are you doing with that?” Savage replied, blandly.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Maven retorted.

“Watch your tone, _slave_ ,” he shot back.

Maven narrowed his eyes but replied honestly, “I’m practicing combat training. This new body has been…challenging to master.”

The Zabrak chuckled, taking the other by surprise. “That was a poor example of technique.”

“Well if you’re so certain then why don’t you show me?” he remarked.

Savage narrowed his gaze but didn’t reply. Instead he walked over to Maven and held out his hand, motioning for the weapon. Again defeated, Maven relinquished the metal rod, placing it in the other’s hand.

“First, this will grant you no aid in your training,” Savage stated, throwing the pole aside. “Nor would it have killed me.”

Maven frowned silently.

“Next, you have to balance your core, _here_ ,” he stated, pointing towards the younger man’s bare chest. “You’re posture isn’t right.”

Maven looked quizzically at him and Savage moved to correct his stature.

“Stand up straight, with your opposite foot out,” he stated, straightening Maven’s chest with one hand and giving his leg a light kick with his foot.

“That’s it. Now, feel the weight of yourself within you. Let it balance you. Feel it within your core right down to the soles of your feet and into your bones. When I attempt to move you, you should be unmovable.” 

It was taking Maven all of his concentration to stay put and not run to the far side of the room in fear. He took a few deep breaths after Savage had placed his hand on his chest, which had caused goose bumps to crawl along his flesh. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the other’s words and not his discomfort; attempted to ignore every instinct that was telling him to run or fight back. He readied himself, bracing before he gave a small nod.

Savage shoved him roughly, which caused Maven to stumble. 

“Again,” he commanded, waiting for Maven to give the okay.

This time Maven took more time to let a specific calmness take over, digging down deep into the Force within himself. He imagined himself as a large immovable boulder that was cemented deep within the ground, and when he felt like he was ready he gave the Zabrak the go-ahead.

Savage shoved him again and this time Maven didn’t move. He tried again, this time from another angle, and again Maven stayed in place. 

“Very good,” Savage said. “Always concentrate on your core when you’re fighting like a warrior. Ground yourself so that you are impenetrable.”   
“I’ve never trained like this before,” Maven remarked, his eyes now open. “Everything’s so new to me. Even holding a lightsaber is going to feel different.”

Savage studied the boy for a few seconds before removing his saberstaff from his belt. 

“Here,” he stated, holding it out for the other. “It’s not what you’re used to but that shouldn’t matter.”

Maven looked down at the saber curiously and then back up at Savage. Unsure, he didn’t move to take it.

“Take it, but you will not be successful in killing me.”

The younger man did as he was told and took the saber from the other’s grasp. He didn’t ignite it at first; instead, he gripped it as he would with his own despite their different construction.   
Savage’s saberstaff was much heavier and weighted differently as it was designed to ignite from both ends. Its long hilt was perfect for using double-handed maneuvers and parrying in spins and twirls. Maven took a defensive stance of which Savage proceeded to correct, kicking the boy’s foot so it was better positioned and then adjusting his stance. Maven looked at him questionably but didn’t say a word, wondering why his captor was helping him. 

“Now, when you ignite it do so from one end, as you would your own. If you even attempt to come after me I will kill you first,” Savage instructed.

Maven did as he was told and knew better than to attempt murder when he knew that Savage had the advantage, despite being fashioned a weapon. The saber ignited swiftly, its crimson beam glowing brightly. Maven changed positions, taking an attack stance before lunging forward, away from Savage. He practiced several lunges a bit sloppily having never practiced with a different saber before, but continued his drill despite any mistakes.

“Stop trying to strike up high when you don’t have to,” Savage commented. “You’re taller now. Your enemies will be the same height as you.”

“Just because I’m tall now doesn’t mean I will stay this way,” Maven commented through strikes. “I hate the way I am.”

Savage stopped him mid-blow, grabbing Maven by the forearm. Surprised, the shorter man looked at him and stopped but held onto the saber. 

“You shouldn’t,” Savage replied quietly before moving Maven’s arm into a different position. “Strike _here_ , not _there_.”

Maven stared at him in both curiosity and confusion. It took him a minute to get back to his routine, of which had him fighting an invisible opponent from eye-level. In his female body, he had been used to fighting larger targets and formed his technique around striking low or aiming high. Now he didn’t need as much effort, only brute strength and cunning. 

“Better,” Savage stated, not having to correct him this time.

Maven stopped and extinguished the saber against his better judgment.

“Why are you helping me?” he asked, the saber still clutched in his hand.

The Zabrak didn’t reply and only motioned for his weapon back. 

When Maven didn’t hand it back to him he asked again: “Why are you helping me?”

Savage grabbed his lightsaber out of Maven’s grasp without giving him an answer. He narrowed his eyes at him briefly before turning to leave, holstering his it as he did so.

“Savage!” Maven shouted back at him but the other refused to reply and left in silence.


	8. The Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't know how I was going to word this and still don't know how to go about apologizing for taking such a long time to update. In all honesty, I wasn't going to continue to update this fic. I had lost all motivation to continue writing because kpop took over my life and my love for Star Wars was pushed to the side. The chapters that I am going to post have been written already; stored away on my old Mac for a time when I felt comfortable enough to post them. I think there are three chapters; I just got done rereading and editing the one I am going to post now. I know that there are some readers who aren't happy with the choices I made with this story. I see your comments, and choose to ignore them. To be frank, I've only ever written m/m fanficiton. For whatever reason, writing m/f makes me uncomfortable. I don't know why I started this story with a female character but at the time I assume that it felt "right." So I'm not sure what the rest of the story will entail. I just know that I have some chapters already written and am going to post them with this "newfound motivation" that I had locked up inside for so long. 
> 
> So for the readers who were here since the very beginning for my Star Wars/Marvel fics, hi; hello - I'm sorry I'm a horrible author. For the new readers who are here for my kpop fics - yes, I'm still a horrible person but feel free to read this if you like Star Wars, I guess. 
> 
> I'm going to hopefully post everything that I already have written tonight and depending on myself and how the rest of the story is perceived, I may/may not consider finishing. Please don't hold it against me if I leave again with any lack of updates. I just hope that you guys are happy that I'm posting the rest of this story anyway.
> 
> Thanks for sticking it out for this long.

Maven was more confused than he had ever been in his life. His first assumption was that Savage was toying with him, as Maul had done. Perhaps they were both playing games with his mind; making him feel like he wasn’t in any danger when in fact they could kill him at any given moment. When he had spent his years training under Vanek he had learned not to trust anybody, not even Valenar or Dren. Though from Vanek’s betrayal, Maven wasn’t sure what was right or wrong anymore; who was an enemy or a friend. Maybe if he managed to escape alive and unharmed, he could find a new master of sorts and grow strong enough to kill them all.

Maven had his head in his hands and lightly chuckled at the thought. He’d never be able to escape alive. Maul was too experienced in the Force and Savage was too physically strong. They’d rip him in half if given the chance, or sell him off like any unremorseful slave owner would do. The smartest thing that they could have done was get rid of him right away, and Maven still couldn’t understand why they were keeping him alive. If Maul truly was the Sith Master he claimed to be, he and Savage were the complete set as governed by the Rule of Two. As Maul explained, he was keen on wiping out all Sith pretenders, even Vanek. So why was Maven still alive? Why keep someone who’s trained in the Force as a slave?

He rubbed his temples, a headache growing as too many thoughts clouded his mind. He hadn’t yet even figured out how to shape-shift back into his female form or any form for that matter. He didn’t have the patience for meditation and his anger was instead shrouded by his own pity. He’d become something his female counterpart would have never imagined; weak and venerable. If she were with him right now she wouldn’t have bothered to lecture him. Instead, she would have easily killed him without frivolous emotions clouding her judgment.

The boy sighed and laid his head back against the durasteel wall behind him as he sat on the floor. He could sense Savage approaching from the far end of the corridor but didn’t proceed to get up. His muscles stiffened as the chamber door slid open and the yellow Zabrak stepped inside.

Savage entered alone, wearing the same attire he had the previous day.

“Darth Maul is returning tomorrow. I’m to take you to his quarters tonight,” he stated.

Maven carefully stood up and took to a defensive posture.

“Why?” he asked.

“Slaves don’t get to ask questions,” Savage replied before walking towards him.

“I’m not going!” Maven exclaimed, holding his hands out in front of him.

Thinking abruptly, he sent a Force push in the Dathomirian’s direction, but it was only a minor nuisance for the other man. Savage swiftly blocked the other’s energy and continued on his way without any sort of expression on his face.

“I said I’m not going!” Maven shouted as Savage went to grab him.

“You don’t have a choice,” he retorted, grabbing the younger man by the arm.

Maven yanked on his arm and attempted to pull away but it was no use.

“Please, Savage! Don’t make me go,” he stammered, pitifully. “He’ll kill me.”

Savage paused for a moment, looking down at him.

“He’s not going to kill you,” he replied.

“Then what’s he going to do to me?” Maven asked, not wanting the question answered.

Savage didn’t reply and only headed for the door, dragging Maven along with him.

“Savage, please!” he exclaimed, continuing to pull in the opposite direction, desperation in his voice.

The Zabrak growled and forcefully grabbed both of his arms, making him stand still.

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” he stated.

A voice in Maven’s head was telling him to fight back; use his training to fend Savage off and then run. As much as he wanted to listen his legs weren’t moving and he was ignoring that instinct. Realizing how pitifully fragile he had become he looked away from the other, holding back tears.

“You said he’s coming tomorrow, then at least can I stay in my own room for tonight?” he asked.

Savage didn’t reply right away. He slowly loosened his grip on Maven’s arms before finally letting him go.

“Fine,” he replied. “I’ll come back for you in the morning.”

When the Zabrak turned to leave Maven shouted after him.

“Wait! Don’t leave,” he exclaimed, the words unknowingly coming out of his mouth.

Savage turned, an eyebrow raised.

“I, uh,” Maven stammered, trying to form words. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Maven replied, mumbling a curse word for having sounded so foolish.

“You don’t get to make the rules here, slave,” Savage replied, his tone harsh.

“Sorry; never mind,” he replied.

Embarrassed, Maven turned and walked back to the wall he had been sitting beside previously. He couldn’t understand what came over him to demand that sort of interaction. Maybe Savage was in fact toying with his mind, if he wasn’t in it already, or perhaps he was truly going mad.

Savage sighed and pressed a command into his comm, which locked the door to Maven’s chamber from the inside and outside. Maven didn’t turn around as he heard the other cross the room and lay down on his bed. When he did finally look over he saw the Zabrak lying there cradling his hands under his head; his eyes closed and legs crossed with his boots hanging off of the end of the mattress. Maven went to say something but thought against it, and sat down in the opposite corner instead.

They stayed like that for quite some time despite the awkwardness. Maven laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes but sleep didn’t come to him nor was he sure if Savage had fallen asleep himself. Growing restless and uncomfortable, he stood up and moved to the far side of the room. Ignoring any discomfort, he went over his drills despite being absent a weapon. Instead, he practiced hand-to-hand combat, closing his eyes and concentrating on the Force as he repeated every block and parry that he knew.

“What are you doing?” Savage asked from the bed.

Maven didn’t answer right away nor did he bother to open his eyes or stop his routine.

“Practicing,” he finally said, after throwing a punch.

Savage was still in the same position he had been since he laid down. Although his eyes were closed he seemed to sense what the other was doing.

“Why did you want me to stay here?” he asked.

Again, Maven didn’t reply quickly. In fact he wasn’t sure what to say and decided to ignore the other’s question. He went into another stance, this time making sure to ground himself before sending a kick into the air.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Savage stated nonchalantly.

“No, I’m not,” he replied, continuing the routine.

The Dathomirian’s eyes were now open as he watched the other curiously. Not wanting to practice jumps and end up flying in the other’s direction, Maven stuck to blocking, kicking, and punching.

“Yes, you are,” Savage retorted, now sitting up on the bed.

Maven ignored him, trying to block him out as he followed through with his current drill. Perspiration was forming on his skin and he breathed deeply before going into his next routine. In Vanek’s company, Maven often trained by himself to let off some steam. He most frequently did it after he had been in the presence of Dren, who was always keen on riling him up in some way with her sly, overconfident attitude.

Savage had gotten up from the bed and was walking over to the other by the time Maven finally paused and opened his eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked as the Zabrak moved Maven’s fists into different positions.

“Fight me,” he stated, before moving into a defensive stance across from him.

“Because that worked out so well last time,” Maven remarked before following his instruction.

Maven didn’t hesitate before lunging at Savage, attempting to hit him with several kicks and punches. Savage blocked them all, moving backwards and buffering his blows. Maven continued his attack, trying to get a hit in. Instead of relying on aerial maneuvers he took to attacking head-on, yelling and grunting as he did so.

“You’re never going to win if you keep this up,” Savage stated, blocking a punch with his forearm and sending his own back at the boy.

Maven managed to duck from the punch and twirled around, sending a spinning kick towards Savage’s head.

The Zabrak caught Maven’s leg before it hit its target, gripping his ankle with both hands. Maven struggled to remove his foot but the other didn’t let go.

“Why did you want me to stay?” he asked again.

Maven frowned and forcefully pulled his ankle away, moving into an attacking position after. Instead of replying he continued his onslaught, sweat dripping down his face as every punch was swiftly blocked.

Growing bored, Savage intercepted one of his blows and grabbed him by the opposite forearm, pulling Maven forward and managing to twist him around so that he had him locked in place.

“Let go of me!” Maven exclaimed between pants, trying to wriggle away.

“Your fighting style is abhorrent,” Savage replied, letting go. “Your master was a terrible tutor.”

“Vanek taught me well enough,” Maven retorted, moving away from him. “I’m not used to this body. Everything I knew is different now.”

“Difference can be beneficial,” Savage remarked.

“Not for me,” Maven replied before lunging at him.

Savage continued to block his attacks until he landed his own punch square in Maven’s jaw. The boy stumbled back, rubbing the side of his face and cursing.

“Continue fighting in this manner and I’ll have you unconscious on the floor in seconds,” Savage stated.

Maven smirked at the challenge and continued to attack, growing more tired by the second. Despite his size, Savage was agile and countered every one of Maven’s punches but didn’t fight back as harshly. When he finally had enough of the boy’s charade he landed a swift kick to his side, causing him to lose his balance and then knocked his feet out from under him. Before Maven hit the floor Savage was behind him, holding him in a headlock that the younger man couldn’t escape from.

Panting and choking, Maven attempted to get free from the other man’s grasp.

“Tell me why you asked me to stay and I’ll let you go,” Savage said, momentarily tightening his grip to assert his statement.

“I don’t know,” he answered through ragged breaths.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Savage remarked, lowering his head so that it was close to the boy’s ear. “Tell me the real reason.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything!”

Savage briefly tightened his grip, causing the other to choke. He loosened his grip again, waiting for a reply.

“Why are you helping me with my training?” Maven countered smugly.

Savage growled in annoyance and let go of him, causing Maven to fall forwards onto his hands and knees. The Zabrak stood up and brushed off his tunic before answering.

“Because you have been poorly trained,” he replied.

“That can’t be the reason,” Maven remarked, wiping sweat from his face as he stood up. “I should be dead already. There’s a reason you’re keeping me alive.”

Savage didn’t reply right away. Maven had noticed that he was much more quiet than his brother; although he fought more recklessly he took his time to calculate his thoughts before forming words.

“You’re just a slave,” Savage finally replied.

“Am I?” Maven shot back. “Why haven’t you killed me then? Why are you helping me?”

“A slave doesn’t ask questions!” Savage growled back, now holding Maven by his shirt collar.

Maven stared up at him as defiantly as he could, swallowing dry spit that had formed in his mouth. Savage glared back down at him, grinding his teeth beneath a snarl. Expecting the older man to hit him, Maven braced himself for the impact but was surprised when Savage let him go.

“So, what? First you beat me nearly to death and now you’re taking pity on me? Well, I don’t need it. I have enough of it already,” Maven exclaimed.

Maven paused before proceeding to ask, “Why are you suddenly being nice to me?”

“Why did you want me to stay?” Savage countered, his hands curled into large, tight fists.

Maven was quiet, his face flushed from frustration as well as embarrassment.

“I don’t know,” he replied softly.

Savage growled, not liking the answer he had received. He walked back over to Maven who defiantly tried not to move a muscle as the larger man circled him like an animal hunting its prey.

“I think you know,” Savage remarked, now behind the shorter man. He ran his fingers down the back of Maven’s neck, resting his hand along his shoulder before leaning in closer. “I just think you’re not man enough to admit it.”

“I’m  _ not _ a man,” Maven replied, his jaw clenching as he felt the other touch him.

“Whatever you are, you are one now,” Savage added. “Admit it, slave. You’re enjoying this.”

“Enjoying what? The torture? These games you’re playing?” Maven managed to reply, holding in his breath as he felt Savage close to his ear.

“All of it,” Savage said, grabbing a fistful of the boy’s hair and forcing his head back. “I’ve never met anyone so resilient. It’s intriguing.”

Maven’s own hands were balled into fists as he attempted to ignore the other’s hot breath against him as well as the painful strain on his neck. Even if he could fight back he knew he’d never win; it was almost as if he had accepted it a while ago. He stared back at Savage who had one large hand roughly entwined in his dark wavy hair, the other resting between his neck and shoulder. It seemed like he was studying him; testing him in some way, perhaps to see how far he could push the younger man to his breaking point.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maven replied.

“No, of course you don’t. You’re just so venerable, so fragile…” he paused, moving his fingers underneath Maven’s tunic.

Maven’s body tensed in a momentary panic before he attempted to pull away from Savage’s grasp. Doing so only made him hiss in pain as Savage pulled back on his hair, holding him in place.

“Why do you continue to fight when you know deep down you’re lying to yourself?” Savage said, continuing to trail his fingers against the other’s skin. “You forget I’m one with the Force, just like you. I can sense everything, like the way your heart changes rhythm when I’m near.”

“You’re just as mad as your brother,” Maven stammered in reply, groaning when Savage gave a sharp tug on his hair.

“I am helping you because I  _ want _ to, not because I have to,” Savage stated.

“Why?”

The Dathomirian smirked, running his hand up along Maven’s neck. He turned the shorter man’s head to look at him and all Maven could do was obey.

“I want what my brother wants, and for some reason my brother wants you,” Savage replied. “He sees something in you; something that threatens the bond that we share as master and apprentice. At first I wanted to kill you to eliminate that threat, but now...”

He paused, tracing his thumb over Maven’s bottom lip before adding, “The Dark Side aids us in many ways, slave. Passion, desire—hunger. You might not realize it yet but this hot intensity that you feel makes you stronger.”

Savage continued to run his finger along Maven’s lip, watching his reaction carefully. “I know you want this well.”

Maven’s breath hitched in his throat and his heart was beating so rapidly that he could hear it in his ears. He had so many questions, all of which he knew Savage would never answer so he didn’t bother to ask. As frustrated as he felt not knowing what the Zabrak meant and what his brother really wanted out of him, the younger man was left speechless as Savage began kissing his neck.

“W-what are you doing?” he stammered, his eyes now tightly squeezed shut and his face flushed.

“Do you want me to stop?” Savaged asked between kisses, moving from his neck to his jaw.

“No,” Maven managed to reply.

Before the Dathomirian went to place a kiss against the shorter man’s lips he pulled away.

“Tell me why you wanted me to stay and we can continue,” Savage demanded.

Maven felt like a wounded animal that had been cornered by a predator as he stared up into Savage’s intense, golden eyes. Despite the severity of the older man’s tone he continued to run his fingers through Maven’s hair; his other hand now trailing up along his back. It took the young man a moment to process what the other was doing to him and inhaled a breath trying to suppress whatever arousal he was feeling. Although he wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable in his current situation something deep within him was screaming at him not to give in. In this newfound retaliation he pulled himself away from Savage, managing to take a few steps back.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he replied stubbornly, his breath ragged.

Savage snarled and shoved Maven back against the wall, pinning him there. Maven groaned upon impact and didn’t have the time to catch his breath as he felt Savage’s mouth on him; his lips roughly crashing against his own and the other’s tongue quickly sliding past his lips.

Maven struggled but any attempt was useless against the Zabrak who managed to pin the younger’s arms to his sides and his smaller body against his own. Even though he tried to fight back he couldn’t stop himself from moaning as Savage continued to kiss him roughly. At some point Savage managed to sneak a hand underneath Maven’s tunic while holding him in place, pulling away from their kiss only to start sucking on his neck and collarbone.

“Do you really think you have a choice, slave?” Savage asked through kisses, sucking and biting on the other’s skin before he continued, “I know why you wanted me to stay but I want to hear it from your lips. Tell me or I'll stop.”

Maven had leaned his head back against the wall as Savage bit and sucked on his flesh, struggling to prevent any sort of pleasured noises from escaping him. Abruptly, Savage grabbed the younger’s arms and pinned them above his head and then slashed open his tunic, pieces falling to the floor in shreds. As he started nipping at Maven’s collarbone he slid his hand into the back of his pants, grabbing a fistful of the other’s ass. The sensation caused Maven to jump slightly in surprise and Savage took the opportunity to push the shorter man up higher on the wall and force him to wrap his legs around him for purchase.

Maven was shocked when he felt himself being hoisted up against the wall and forced to wrap his legs around Savage’s waist to prevent himself from falling. Savage still had his hands pinned with one hand, his other still gripping Maven’s ass.

“Say it,” Savage breathed, trailing his tongue up along Maven’s neck.

“I’m not saying anything,” Maven retorted stubbornly.

The Dathomirian smirked and grabbed Maven by the throat, squeezing just enough to make the other go slightly lightheaded but not enough to do any permanent damage.

“Say it, slave,” he demanded, still holding Maven by the throat as the hand that had been gripping him by the ass now slid to the front of his slacks.

Maven felt as Savage began stroking him through the fabric of his clothing and moaned despite being choked at the same time.

Savage paused momentarily, letting his grip around Maven’s neck loosen so that he could ask him again: “Why did you want me to stay?”

The younger man’s hips had involuntarily bucked when Savage had stopped stroking him, groaning in frustration. Savage stopped and held him there, waiting for an answer. So many thoughts and feelings were coursing through Maven’s mind— _ panic, frustration, arousal, fright— _ and yet despite all of these sensations he was left feeling sort of _right_ ; as if he was meant to be there in that moment and shouldn’t question what was going to happen next.

“I-I wanted you,” Maven managed to reply, feeling the blood rush to his face after having done so.

“You wanted  _ what _ from me?” Savage asked teasingly, now continuing to stroke Maven through his clothing.

The younger man stifled a groan, clenching his jaw in irritation and not wanting to reply.

“ _What_ did you want from me, slave?” the Zabrak asked again before sliding his hand underneath Maven’s slacks.

Maven jumped at the sensation of Savage holding such a sensitive area, stroking him slowly with one hand, the other still loosely gripping his throat. He tightened his grip on his windpipe when Maven didn’t reply fast enough, and instead of choking from it the younger man moaned in arousal. Savage smirked lightly and ran his tongue along the shorter man’s jaw before sucking on his earlobe, pulling away abruptly and waiting for a reply.

When Savage had pulled away Maven couldn’t take it anymore. Ignoring everything that was telling him not to do it—not to give in to this monster, he leaned forward and kissed the Zabrak roughly. Savage smiled slyly beneath the kiss before going in deeper, forcing the other to tilt his head to the side so that he could kiss him as deeply as his tongue would go. When they finally pulled away Maven was panting, a new lust coated over his eyes.

“I want you,” he repeated, this time without hesitation.


	9. The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the previous chapter, I will be posting three more chapters that I had previously written but not uploaded. This chapter has explicit content, and may make some readers uncomfortable, so this has been your warning.

Savage didn’t hesitate to answer Maven by fiercely kissing him, the younger man’s head banging backward into the wall from the Zabrak’s vigor. As painful as it might have felt, Maven paid no attention to it, his hands now free as he kissed Savage back and wrapped his arms around his neck.

The Dathomirian was grinding into him as they kissed, intensely stroking Maven beneath his trousers and causing him to buck in reply. Maven clawed at Savage’s back and shoulders, drawing blood before letting a hand slide up the back of his neck. Savage growled against the other’s lips and pulled away to kiss and suck on Maven’s neck, blood lightly trickling down his back. As Maven cradled the back of Savage’s head he was startled when he nicked his finger against one of the several horns that protruded out from the older man’s skull. Although barely touching it, it cut two fingers, and Maven pulled back hissing in pain.

Savage removed himself from the other’s neck, which was now covered in dark bruises, saliva, and welts. Maven scrunched his nose in pain, blood now dripping from his fingertips onto his palm and speckling the floor. Without asking, Savage took Maven’s hand and licked the blood clean off of his skin before suckling the two fingers the boy had injured. Maven groaned as he watched him, tightening his legs around the other. The larger man sucked for a few moments longer before removing Maven’s fingers and kissing him. Maven tasted his own blood in his mouth but its bitter copper pungency didn’t bother him. Instead, he kissed Savage back as intensely as he could, bucking his hips up against the other since Savage had stopped stroking him.

Savage had his hands on Maven’s hips faster than the boy could take notice, stopping him from his stimulating movements. The younger man groaned in reply but Savage quickly quieted him in a snarl.

“You must learn patience, slave,” he commanded before removing them both from the wall and setting Maven back down on his feet.

The change in position caught Maven off guard, and he felt momentarily silly standing across from the taller man, half naked and aroused. Savage took his time to soak in all that stood in front of him, biting down on his tattooed lip to stop himself from taking the boy right then and there.

“Undress me,” he demanded.

For a brief second Maven was extremely frustrated by the command but the feeling faded quickly. Had his feminine counterpart been in control he was sure that she would have told Savage to ‘kriff off’ and punch him in the face. But she wasn’t present, and Maven felt embarrassed thinking about it. Instead, he forced the thought from his mind and did as he was told and began to undress him.

First he removed Savage’s dark tunic, which took a lot of effort on his part because the other man was so tall. After discarding the garment Maven was taken aback by what stood in front of him, and he looked away when he felt his face warm. Savage was well over six feet tall, maybe even seven not including his horns. His upper body was all thick muscle and yellow skin, and he was much broader than his older brother, whose body structure was shorter and leaner. Black tattoos outlined his entire torso, and Maven didn’t have to guess that they probably adorned his whole body. Instead, his question was answered after he had removed the Zabrak’s leather belt and pants, as well as shin guards and boots. When Savage was fully naked Maven set his gaze as far away as he could, his face a bright crimson.

If Maven had been looking he would have been able to see the older man smirk down at him. Savage stepped closer to Maven and set his hand under the boy’s chin, forcing the boy to look at him.

“No need to be shy,” he whispered before he quickly tore down Maven’s slacks, ripping them in the process.

Maven instinctively went to cover himself but Savage stopped him, holding his hands behind his back. The shorter man closed his eyes in embarrassment from the obvious sign of his arousal now out in the open. He understood how the human male body worked even though he only had it for a short period of time. In that time he never pleasured himself and felt embaressed of what he had become, of which was now shamelessly displayed for Savage to see.

“Look at me,” Savage commanded, a hand now wrapped around Maven’s throat.

Maven did as he was told before Savage put any pressure on his windpipe, swallowing dry saliva after he had done so.

“Do not be ashamed of what you are,” the Dathomirian said sternly.

“I-I don’t know what to do,” Maven mumbled in reply. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Then I will teach you,” he said back before kissing the shorter man.

Savage kissed him deeply and not as roughly as he had before, his hands exploring Maven’s chest and back before finally resting on his ass. Maven jumped after Savage had given him a squeeze before pulling away from the kiss. The Zabrak entwined a hand into the younger man’s hair and motioned for him to get onto his knees. Maven looked at him wide-eyed but obeyed, and Savage gave him a sharp tug before he could look away from what was being presented to him. Without having to ask Maven hesitantly moved himself closer to Savage and set a hand against the other’s hip, the other gripping the base of his engorged cock. Closing his eyes he set his mouth against it, slowly sucking it into his mouth as far as he could make it go. Savage moaned in response, tightening his grip in the boy’s hair as Maven continued to nurse him. Despite not having done this before Maven took Savage’s moan as a good sign and continued to suck, pulling out only to run his tongue down the length of him and tease the tip with his tongue.

The Zabrak groaned and pulled the boy off of him, not wanting him to stop but not wanting to climax too soon. He got to his knees and sat down, pulling Maven on top of him and into his lap. When Maven felt Savage’s erection rub up against him he couldn’t stop himself from moaning but didn’t dare reach down to touch himself. Maven watched as Savage licked and then spit into his hand and pulled Maven closer with his other, and a strange pressure against his behind made him jump up in alarm. Savage held him down, an arm now wrapped around his waist, the other set against his ass as he carefully pushed a wet finger into his entrance. The sensation was a mixture of pain and discomfort, and as Maven went to pull away again the pain grew worse.

“Stop fidgeting or you will make it harder for yourself,” Savage stated, sliding his finger out and then back in again.

“It hurts,” Maven mumbled, stifling a pained grunt against the larger man’s shoulder.

“It will get worse before it gets better,” Savage replied. “But when it gets better you will be begging me to do so much more.”

As Savage added a second finger Maven groaned into his shoulder, his arms now wrapped around Savage tightly. Savage moved his fingers slowly, taking the time to stretch his entrance knowing that the younger man was going to be in great discomfort when the time came. He pulled his fingers out and spit in his hand again before continuing and adding a third, causing Maven’s body to tense as he tried to hold in another agonized groan. Savage continued, carefully pushing his digits in as far as they would go, curling his fingers until they brushed against Maven’s prostate.

The boy’s body convulsed from the sensation, not knowing what it was but making him moan nonetheless. Savage quickened his pace and rubbed his prostate again and again, continuing to stretch him.

Maven’s eyes had dilated after the first wave and as Savage continued his pupils only grew larger. The sensation was still quite painful but the ending result caused him to moan and buck his hips against him.

Savage removed his fingers and spit into his palm one last time before stroking himself and groaning. He didn’t take long milking himself before positioning Maven off of him and onto the floor, maneuvering him so that he was on his hands and knees. Not knowing what to do, Maven let the Zabrak do as he pleased despite his harsh handling. Savage forced Maven’s hips and ass up and set his hand against Maven’s shoulder, pushing his upper body down towards the floor. Maven felt extremely vulnerable and would have been humiliated in his current position had he not been so aroused.

“I am not going to lie—this is going to hurt,” Savage stated, positioning himself behind Maven’s waiting ass.

Maven felt as Savage started pushing his hard erection into him, causing his knees to buckle. As he cried out Savage set a hand around his waist so that he wouldn’t give out from under him and held him there, continuing to move into him.

“S-stop, please! Stop!” Maven exclaimed, now yelling as tears welled in his eyes.

But Savage didn’t stop. He continued until he was pressed up entirely into Maven’s ass and held himself there, continuing to hold the younger man up. Maven’s knees were shaking, his hands balled into fists to fight off the pain that had surpassed the point of screaming.

Savage stayed like that for a few moments longer, letting the boy get used to the sensation before slowly pulling out and pushing back in, grunting as he did so. Maven struggled to get away but the movement only brought on more pain, and Savage growled in response. As he continued he reached his free hand underneath them and began stroking Maven slowly until he formed a new erection. The mixture between pain and pleasure was confusing the hell out of Maven, unsure whether he should tense himself before Savage slid into him again or succumb to it.

The Zabrak changed his position, forcing Maven’s ass up higher as he pushed in slightly faster, his cock rubbing against the boy’s prostate. A low moan escaped from Maven’s lips without him knowing and Savage paused, causing his knees to shake. Savage pushed himself in as deep as he could go and held himself there, teasing the tip of Maven’s erection at the same time. The younger man moaned underneath him and was no longer attempting to escape.

“Do you like that?” Savaged teased, pulling out and slowly sliding back in, making sure he hit Maven’s sweet spot again.

Maven’s hips bucked in response, groaning as he did so.

Savage chuckled and stopped the boy from grinding back against him, now gripping his hip since he no longer had to hold him up. He continued to tease him, sliding in and out slowly, hitting his prostate every time.

Maven was a mess underneath him, the side of his face pressed against the cold floor with his ass raised in the air. Every time he attempted to buck his hips backwards Savage stopped him, not letting him get the satisfaction that he so desired.

“Savage, please,” Maven whined, clawing at the ground as Savage slowly and agonizingly fucked him.

“Please what?” Savage retorted, a grin plastered on his face as he slid back into him, holding back his own climax as he brushed against Maven’s prostate.

“Please go faster,” Maven stammered, almost whimpering.

“A slave does not make demands,” Savage replied, leaning over to ball his hand into Maven’s dark hair. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Maven whined when Savage pulled on his hair, forcing him to pick his head up off of the floor with his neck crammed back in an uncomfortable position. When he tried to buck his hips backward Savage held him tightly, preventing him from doing so.

“I want you to fuck me,” he groaned. “Please! Fuck me.”

A shiver coursed through Savage seeing and hearing Maven say those words and he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. Hand still wrapped tightly in the younger man’s hair he thrusted hard, pulling Maven’s hip back against him with every thrust. Maven was moaning loudly underneath him, panting as he bucked his hips back up against Savage and savoring every moment he felt the Zabrak’s large cock push deeper into him.

Savage let go of Maven’s hair and set his hand against his back for better purchase, his nails digging into pale flesh. Maven cried out from both pain and pleasure and Savage pushed his upper body back down towards the ground to better fuck him. Maven moaned against the floor feeling as Savage wrapped a hand back around his cock, stroking him efficiently. In time with his strokes, Savage thrust more quickly and deeply, hitting Maven’s prostate.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Savage demanded through pants, digging his nails deep into Maven’s back to assert himself.

“I’m yours! Please, I’m yours!” Maven exclaimed pitifully in reply, moaning after every thrust.

Upon Maven’s response Savage thrust roughly into him and came hard, groaning loudly as he did so. The sensation sent Maven over the edge, and he came into Savage’s hand and all over the floor beneath him, his body convulsing as he moaned. The feeling sent waves of ecstasy through him, and in his climax he had no idea at the time that he had been screaming Savage’s name. When it had finally passed Maven could no longer hold himself up and fell onto the floor beneath him with Savage on top of him, panting and practically drooling onto the ground.

Savage had propped himself up with one arm but hadn’t moved, still panting from his own climax. When he finally did attempt to pull out and off of the boy beneath him Maven groaned, grunting lightly in pain. Carefully, Savage slowly pulled out of him and was taken by surprised by the blood mixed with semen that came with him.

The Dathomirian cursed and sat himself up, Maven still groaning and refusing to move. The boy had his eyes shut tightly, attempting to dull the horrible ache that now resided in his lower belly and ass. Whatever Force abilities might have aided him he was too weak to call upon, and when he finally attempted to push himself up he grunted and fell back down.

It was then that Maven felt himself being scooped up off of the floor and carried across the room despite any protesting he might have made had he been well. Savage laid him down onto his bed as gently as the large Zabrak could manage before leaving him briefly to go into the refresher. Maven clutched his body as he waited, whimpering, but it wasn’t long before the other man returned with a warm cloth in hand.

Not saying a word he carefully positioned the younger man so that he could more easily help him, now cleaning the blood off of his skin. Maven hissed when he felt the cloth against his ass but Savage tried to be as gentle as he could.

“I apologize,” Savage said as he laid Maven back down on his back, using a new cloth to wipe the sweat from the boy’s face.

Maven opened his eyes and looked back at Savage curiously, managing to chuckle.

“So you do have a soul,” he joked, groaning afterward.

Savage narrowed his eyes but didn’t address the other’s sarcasm.

“I forgot you’ve never done this before. I should have been more careful,” he replied.

“Since when do you care about a slave?” Maven asked seriously.

Savage growled and stood up in response, walking to the other side of the chamber and leaving Maven to wallow in his own misery.


	10. The Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I will be posting that I had previously already written. As I previously stated, I'm not sure if I will be continuing this work or not. My motivation comes and goes in waves and never lingers. It's hard for me to get a firm grip on it and hold it there in order to finish even one chapter of a fic. So I cannot give anyone an answer as to what the future of this fic will be, but I hope that you've enjoyed reading it thus far.
> 
> This chapter has explicit content.
> 
> Enjoy!

Maven was not sure how much time had passed as he attempted to fight off the pain and wished that sleep would take over him. He almost hoped that the Zabrak would put him out of his misery and knock him unconscious, but from what Maven could sense Savage was not going to do so. As much pain as the younger man was in he could still sense Savage in the room; he hadn’t left. Where he was he didn’t know, as he had turned onto his side facing the wall despite the agonizing cramp that shot through him.

Savage had cleaned himself off in the refresher and put his pants back on when he returned, watching Maven’s body twitch painfully after every exhale. He spent a few more moments observing him before sighing and making his way back to the bed.

Maven felt the mattress move behind him and a hand suddenly on his shoulder. He went to brush it off but hissed as a cramp jolted his side and the Zabrak moved Maven without his compliance. As he positioned the boy so that he was resting on his back he pulled a blanket over him, thinking that maybe it would help.

“Thanks,” Maven mumbled, carefully pulling the blanket over himself.

Savage didn’t reply and went to get off of the bed but Maven grabbed his arm.

“Don’t go,” he added sheepishly.

“This again?” Savage asked, sitting back down beside him.

Maven bit his lip and didn’t let go of the other man’s arm. Savage sighed and moved so that he was sitting beside the other, his legs now on the bed. Maven finally let go of his arm though what he truly wanted was to curl up beside the other.

Maven was looking away but he could feel Savage’s eyes on him as if the other could see right through him. The Zabrak sighed for the third time and fixed his position so that he was lying down and carefully pulled the boy closer to him so that he was resting against his side.

Maven was taken by surprise at first but settled into his new position despite the pain. Unsure of what he was allowed to do or touch, he only laid where Savage had placed him, staring modestly at the other.

Savage must have sensed the boy’s confusion as he grabbed Maven’s arm and pulled it around himself, letting Maven settle in the spot between his left arm and torso.

“You’ve _really_ never done this before,” Savage stated.

“No,” Maven replied, his face flushing.

Savage snorted, “I can’t believe you were a virgin.”

Maven was bright red from Savage’s remark and went to sit up but a sharp spasm pierced into his side. He decided to lie back down even though he wanted to slap the Dathomirian across the face.

“I’m sure your brother will take whatever’s left,” Maven added as if it didn’t matter.

Savage moved so that he was looking down at Maven, gripping the boy’s jaw in his hand despite the other’s soreness.

“You’re mine now, do you understand?” he asserted, his voice alarming. “No matter what Maul does to you, you are _mine_.”

Maven looked up at Savage wide-eyed and swallowed dry spit, unsure of how to respond. Savage finally let him go and pulled him back beside himself, making sure that Maven’s head was resting against his chest. For a moment Maven was frightened—as frightened as he had been the first few days Savage had visited him. He inhaled deeply and let the moment pass, trying not to make himself anxious.

“I have to take you to his chambers in a few hours. Until that time, you should rest,” Savage said.

“Okay,” Maven replied, his voice small.

“Why didn’t you change form as you did for my brother?” Savage asked.

“Does it really matter?”

“No. I like you this way,” Savage replied. “But you should best figure out how to turn back before he arrives.”

Maven didn’t reply; too busy trying to dull the terror that was now erupting in his mind. Savage must have sensed this as well as he moved to cradle Maven’s face in his free hand, rubbing his thumb against the other’s cheek.

“No matter what he does I will be here,” he said.

Maven awakened a few hours later to Savage rustling him from his slumber. He groaned as he felt himself being sat up, wanting to go back to sleep. Though a dull ache still resided in his core the agony he previously felt had thankfully subsided and he was able to sit upright.

Savage brought the boy new garments and started to redress him despite Maven’s groggy protests. Before he pulled Maven’s tunic over his head he examined the multitude of bruises and discoloration that covered his neck and collarbone, as well as bloodied scratch marks scattered along his back. Savage mumbled a curse before pulling down Maven’s shirt and then putting on his own.

It was then that reality slapped Maven across the face and he watched the Zabrak with nervous eyes.

“What’s he going to do to me?” he asked, watching as Savage finished redressing himself.

Savage frowned silently before walking to him and pulling Maven up by the arm. He took a moment to examine the assortment of ravenous injuries brightly displayed on the boy’s neck before giving him an answer.

“Even if we could hide it my brother would still know,” he replied unconcerned. “He will be angry with me, not you.”

Maven rubbed his neck nervously, clenching his jaw from the soreness.

“How would he know?” he asked.

“Because you wreak of sex,” Savage replied.

“Then maybe I should shower?”

“No, there isn’t time. He will be arriving soon and you should have been in his bedchamber by now,” Savage stated, pushing a command into his comm.

Maven’s chamber door slid open and Savage tugged on the boy’s arm, ushering him out of the room.

Maven went to complain but it was useless to resist the Zabrak’s command. He quickly trailed behind him, Savage tightly holding onto his wrist the entire way. After they had finally arrived Savage pressed a code into the keypad outside of Maul’s chamber door that slid open for him and he pulled Maven through.

A sudden beeping erupted on Savage’s comm and he growled, not wanting to answer the call.

“He is hailing me. Do not make a sound,” Savage ordered.

Maven did as he was told, silently watching him.

The beeping ceased after Savage accepted the call and a hologram presented itself from the device. The hologram was Darth Maul, clad in his usual attire with his hands held behind his back.

“Savage,” he stated.

“Brother,” Savage replied, bowing his head slightly after addressing him.

“I take everything has been well in my absence,” he said. “Have you seen through with my demands?”

“Yes, brother,” Savage replied. “Will you be returning shortly?”

“I have already arrived,” Maul answered.

“When? Why didn’t you hail me sooner?”

Maul sighed and paused before answering, “And disrupt your little transgression? Oh, no I think not.”

The hologram on Savage’s comm cut out and the Zabrak stepped back in surprise when Maul walked through his door. The older brother still had his hands clasped behind himself, looking at Savage and then to Maven without any expression.

Maven unconsciously held his breath and his muscles tensed but Savage stood unmoving. Maul paused a few yards in front of them, the door sliding closed behind him.

“You have been busy, my apprentice,” Maul stated, his eyes burning into Savage’s.

Savage narrowed his eyes before replying, “I have.”

“And my slave…” Maul turned to look at Maven, eyeing him harshly. “I see you have not been successful in turning back to your original form. What a pity.”

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” Maven shot back.

“And you still haven’t broken him?” Maul added, looking back at Savage, glowering in annoyance.

Maul abruptly sent Savage flying across the room and crashing into the far wall, leaving it crumbling behind him.

“I give you one simple task and instead of following through you decide to take advantage of it instead!” Maul shouted, now holding Savage against the wall by his throat.

“He is just a slave, brother,” Savage choked, gripping the wrist that was crushing his windpipe.

Maul cocked his head to the side and laughed, the shrill sending chills down Maven’s spine.

“It does not matter what he is, _brother_ ,” Maul replied. “It is your betrayal of my trust that has forced you into your current position.”

Maul forcefully threw Savage onto the ground and the yellow Zabrak coughed hoarsely. Despite their difference in physical size, Maul outranked his brother in power, and Maven knew that he could rip Savage apart with the Force if he really wanted to.

“Your deception will cost you dearly, apprentice,” Maul stated. “But I will deal with you later. Leave us, at once.”

Savage stood up, holding back a snarl through clenched teeth. Maven watched as he glanced over in his direction, looking as if he was trying to decide what to do next.

Maul laughed, “The boy is not yours, Savage, despite his abilities. He is _my_ slave no matter what body he decides to reside in. Now leave us!”

Savage grimaced before taking his leave, anger radiating off of him like a furnace. Maven had moved to the far end of the room, dreading what was going to happen to him. After Savage had finally left Maul turned on the boy and called upon the Force to still Maven’s already trembling body. Frozen there, Maven watched in panic as Maul walked towards him, stopping when they were only a few inches apart.

Maul didn’t even need to keep a hand raised in order to hold Maven there, only relying on his mind to do the dirty work. He looked the boy up and down, his eyes resting upon Maven’s pink and purpled neck. The red Zabrak stepped forward and roughly grabbed the shorter man’s jaw, tilting his head in order to get a better view. Maven could feel Maul suddenly caressing his injured flesh, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

“I should kill you, my slave,” he stated, his fingers trailing to the base of his neck and stopping at the collar of his tunic. He paused for a moment longer before ripping the boy’s shirt apart, the torn pieces falling to the floor.

Even if Maven had the ability to fight back, he wasn’t sure if he would have. He knew that he had turned into a coward—physically and mentally beaten to the point where fight or flight weren’t options anymore. If he wanted to live he understood that he had to abide by the Zabrak’s rules, even if it shamed him.

Goosebumps formed against his skin as Maul continued to touch his bruised flesh, now walking around him to examine the marks Savage had left on his back.

The Zabrak _tsked_ several times before circling back around him, letting his hand trail along Maven’s shoulder. He ran his fingers lightly along his jaw and then through his hair before roughly latching his hand into his locks and sharply tugging his head back.

“You stink of sex and sweat,” Maul said, lowering his head towards Maven’s flesh and inhaling deeply. “Did you enjoy yourself, slave?”

Maul partially released Maven from his Force grip so that the boy could reply. The sudden sensation of being able to move his head but nothing else left him feeling uncomfortable and exposed. When Maven didn’t answer Maul gave him another sharp tug, causing the younger man to grunt in pain.

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered.

“From the looks if it my apprentice seemed to enjoy himself thoroughly,” Maul said sternly. “How did it feel letting him fuck you in this body? Did it please you?”

Maven’s cheeks were burning, wanting nothing more in the universe than not to have to answer the question. Maul tugged on Maven’s hair again, more harshly this time, causing the boy to groan.

“It felt good, it felt good,” Maven stuttered, still groaning as his captor was refusing to loosen his grip in the boy’s hair.

“I am glad you answered honestly,” Maul replied. “In any case, I would have known. I knew what had happened the moment I saw you. Your thoughts betray you, slave.”

Maven whined when he felt Maul suddenly enter his mind, invading his thoughts with swift precision. The sudden onslaught would have caused Maven to collapse if he had been able to move, as the piercing needle of Maul’s Force power inserted itself deeper.

Maul didn’t have to look long before he found what he wanted, drawing the memories of Savage up to the surface, forcing Maven to relive their last encounter over and over again.

“Stop it!” Maven exclaimed.

Maul smirked as he drew upon the memory, pulling out all of the sensations that Maven had been feeling when Savage had been fucking him. Maven was suddenly taken over by waves of pleasure, his flesh becoming sensitive and warm and his pupils dilating. As Maul forced him to relive the moment of Savage thrusting into him from behind, teasing the tip of his leaking erection as he did so, Maven couldn’t hold back a moan.

The Zabrak sneered and tugged on the boy’s hair again, leaning forward so that his hot breath was against his face. Maven groaned from the contact, not from pain but from arousal, which was now evident as the erection pressed up tightly in his pants.

“Please, stop,” Maven managed to whine, feeling violated in ways that he’d never imagined.

“Savage was not able to break you completely, but I shall,” Maul replied, vigorously shoving more perceptions of arousal into Maven’s mind.

Maven moaned from the assault, trying to ignore the visions of Savage _touching him, kissing him, teasing him, slowly thrusting into him…_

“Why are you not turning back?” Maul asked, continuing to tease and coax him with his thoughts. “Why have you not taken your female form?”

Maven scrunched his nose and clenched his jaw, continuing to attempt to shove the images away.

“I don’t know how it works,” he managed to reply, grimacing.

Maul growled, yanking on Maven’s hair and invading the boy’s mind more deeply than he ever had. The hair on Maven’s skin stood on end—his flesh a mixture of sweat and sensitivity. He couldn’t bite down a groan as his body felt like it was about to burst, wanting to climax but never quite reaching it. His erection throbbed beneath his pants and he wanted so badly to buck his hips up against the man who assaulted him; find release in any way that he could. Images of Savage pleasuring him now turned into Maul— _envisioning Maul licking and biting his flesh, running his hands across his skin, stroking his aching cock and rubbing it against his own…_

“S-Stop it, please,” Maven moaned, his voice cracking.

Maul smirked, the hand that had been clutching his hair now resting against his temple as he continued to extend the boy’s arousal.

“Do you really want me to stop?” he asked, lightly running his tongue against Maven’s ear.

Maven thought he saw stars dance across his field of vision, but it was only that of _Maul teasingly stretching his hole open… Biting his neck as he fucked Maven up against the wall… Sliding his cock up into him as Maven cried out for more…_

“I-I,” Maven was choking on his words, barely able to get anything out through moans and pants.

Despite the visions seeming so real, Maul had barely touched the boy. He still had Maven held forcibly still with the Force, and whatever he was seeing or feeling was only taking place in his mind.

“What do you want?” Maul asked, trailing his tongue along Maven’s trembling lip. He sucked it for a moment before shoving more visions into his mind, causing the boy to moan louder than he ever had before.

_Maul shoving Maven's face against the floor as Savage had done and taking him from behind… Maul bucking his hips as Maven straddled him, fucking him… Maul binding Maven’s wrists so that he couldn’t escape when Maul fucked him face-to-face…_

“Please,” Maven stammered, almost to tears and begging for sweet release. “I-I can’t take it anymore!”

“What do you want me to do?” Maul asked deeply before running his tongue down the length of Maven’s pale neck.

“Please… I-I need… You.”

Suddenly, the visions that had shrouded Maven’s mind vanished as did Maul’s Force grip on him. Maven was left reeling, barely able to keep his balance as reality came back into view, as did Maul standing before him.

He swayed and righted himself, staring at Maul with wide, pleading eyes. Though the images had faded his arousal had not, and he groaned in frustration from the realization.

“Maybe this will make you learn your lesson,” Maul said unapologetically before turning and leaving, making sure that the door had locked behind him.


End file.
